


A Timely Warning

by SofiaDragon



Series: Another Turn of the Wheel [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alien Culture, Alternate Norse Religion & Lore, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Frigga (Marvel), Dysphoria, Family Drama, Gen, Intersex Jotunn (Marvel), It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki-centric, Odin's A+ Parenting, Odin's Bad Parenting, Period-Typical Sexism, Racism, Self-Discovery, Self-Harm, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:44:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 52,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SofiaDragon/pseuds/SofiaDragon
Summary: Takes more from Norse Myths than the comics, but primarily based on the MCU. Starts one century before Thor's planned coronation, first in an ongoing series.Time travel isn't impossible even if you don't have the Time Gem, but using it to change anything more than a few days past is widely considered the most effective way to go insane. So when Loki receives a package apparently from his future self he is understandably concerned. The Wheel of Time continues to turn, and whatever happens in this iteration of the universe, Loki will not ignore this herald of dangers to come.Of course, that would require that he understood the message. Unfortunately, the package arrives when Loki is still a developing adolescent instead of in the week prior to Thor's coronation.





	1. Thor's Day

  **Thor's Day**

Loki was not enjoying himself. The younger prince of Asgard was fairly drunk, as was just about everyone in the realm. It was Thor's name day party, so that was expected. Their father had announced during the formal proceedings of the day that Thor would succeed him as king shortly. This was unnecessary, really. Anyone with a brain could count up from 1,100 and see that Thor was one century short of becoming a full adult in the eyes of the law: capable of purchasing property, participating in a Thing, or establishing a new business. It was perfectly logical that once he reached an age that he could run his holding without a legally mandated advisor aiding him, the elder prince would start actually ruling over parts of the realm with full authority. The only real effect of the announcement was to make the celebrations louder, drunker, and even more laudatory for the beloved Prince Thor. Loki could not speak to anyone without a shower of comparisons to his elder brother, most insulting Loki's manhood. It seemed no one was welcoming to Loki tonight, so he found a quiet corner and practiced summoning liquids by refilling his wine glass.

It wouldn't be so intolerable if people would _stop insulting him_. Loki liked the music, there was good drink and food, and everyone was dressed their best. He was rather proud of the elegant, but manly, gold and green outfit he was wearing as it was both soft enough to be clothing but styled with leather and metal to resemble light armor. He loved his brother and was proud to count him as kin; he wanted to celebrate Thor's name day. Professional dancers were interspersed with the tables and knots of revelers, their clothing thin and their bodies more than pleasing to the eye. It was a truly perfect celebration, from the plentiful wine and ale up to the elaborate displays of gymnastics and exhibition fights in the courtyard that afternoon.

Unfortunately, Loki was not the heaping tower of warrior muscle that Asgardian men were meant to be. The second Prince of Asgard was regarded by most of the peerage to be a strange, womanly nuisance. His uncommon black hair was considered by the superstitious to be a portent of bad luck. His muscles grew lean and wiry instead of bulking up, his body more suited to the graceful movements of dance than the smashing of bones by brute force. He was adept at and fascinated by  magic, a skill habitually honed by women and a few old men too weak for combat. He enjoyed the arts, both watching others and creating items of beauty for his own. Despite being well over nine centuries old he had yet to grow even the shadow of a beard. He was also a shape-changer, a strange and exotic natural talent, though a poorly skilled and unpracticed one. He honestly thought that if he heard one more drunken slur calling him a princess tonight he was going to scream. The reaction to his sudden outburst would be amusing, at least.

Bored, and with no fresh wine left within his field of view, he slipped through the throng of drunken warriors and lusty women. One of the women he'd attempted to chat up caught his eye, and apparently her tiny brain had worked through their conversation. _Yes, you silly woman, I was trying to bed you. No, calling me 'princeling' because I'm a 'little darling' did not make me want to introduce you to my brother. Yes, that backhanded compliment about your slutty dress was intended to hit you so hard your head would still be spinning next week. Yes, I was positively tickled when you not only didn't realize I was insulting you, but started bragging to others by quoting my comments!_ He graced her with a vicious smile, thinking his sharp thoughts, and she stormed away. It was a shame she was so stupid because she was rather pretty, but Loki had to have some standards even given the slim pickings. He could wield words as easily as his daggers when he cared to. It was most effective to hang around just far enough away from Thor to chat up a woman who wasn't quite brave enough to go up to his brother. Perhaps one Thor had rejected, so Loki could step in and be just comforting enough.

He'd had too much wine for that, now. Not enough that his wits had left him - something he couldn't say for Thor as he caught a glimpse of the blond behemoth guzzling something in a drinking horn, a crowd of soldiers cheering him on - but enough that he was past tipsy. The artwork of his carefully crafted words wouldn't hold up to the buzzing alcohol in his blood at this point, and he was too much the perfectionist to speak mindlessly without provocation. Perhaps a few more cups and he'd open up again, reckless and heedless of slurred speech, but for now he was rendered shy and quiet. In fact, the sheer volume of raucous celebration in the room was too much in his current state. He'd aimed for a quiet nook, but it was occupied by one of the librarians. He knew her far too well and changed direction instantly. He snatched up a fresh cup and cut a path to the terrace. There he would have only the company of the stars. He tried not to feel bitter about it. This was Thor's day to shine, and Loki wasn't interested in ruining it. He'd just keep track of those who had spoken ill of him and devise proper retribution later on.

Loki stood leaning on the terrace railing for the better part of an hour, occasionally sipping his wine as he watched the vibrant nebulae and stars move across the sky. No one else was outside. There wasn't even a guard on duty, or else the man had slipped away to join the party inside. The long, steep slope of the golden palace walls were designed to reflect both the lights from the homes below and the stars above when he looked down at it, giving the illusion of self-illumination. It was peaceful, the night air cool, and the scenery quite beautiful. Not for the first time, he wondered what would happen if he hopped the railing. It would take a good minute for him to hit anything, given the height. More, if he used magic to slow the fall. People might panic, and that would be fun. He always loved a touch of chaos. It might kill him, too.

 _I'm not suicidal_ , he thought to himself. _Not really, and I wouldn't ruin Thor's party like that._ There was no need for him to seek out a mind healer. He just thought about dying a lot. He'd never deliberately tried to hurt himself, just vividly imagined how he might. As long as he never acted on that trail of thoughts, it was just speculation and nothing was wrong.

After all, his lot was not so bad. Despite his youth Loki Odinson of Asgard was the most skilled sorcerer in the realm, although since most Aesir men shunned magic it wasn't a terribly difficult title to gain even at his age. He did accompany his brother, Sif, and the Warrior's Three on various hunts whenever they remembered to invite him. He was a prince, with a loving mother, that lived in the lap of luxury. His father was harsh, distant, and often too busy to talk unless something recently exploded into a shower of multi-colored sparks. His talent with words and ability to spot lies both with and without magic had gained him the respect of several in the royal council, and his use of that talent outside of court proceedings gained him the ire of the rest. He made plenty of very funny jokes and was the butt of many less funny ones. He had extracted secrets from several who were not as loyal to Asgard as they ought to have been, and humiliated others by airing their dirty laundry in retaliation to any disparaging comments they made about him. Then again, such attacks had become so frequent in recent days that he couldn't keep up with those who offended him, and many remained unpunished and unrepentant.

People called him fickle, but really he just didn't have an end game. Thor was the heir, and Loki was a spare. He'd accepted that some time ago, but given the day's announcement it was top of mind again. Finding a wife before Thor and providing elder grandchildren to Odin was a ludicrous (and cliche) goal, and he wasn't terribly interested in putting up a child to succeed Thor.  Loki himself was only 947 years old, just barely old enough to physically manage it, and the idea wasn't exactly palatable in the long term or practical in the short term. On the other hand he was already 947 years old and had no idea what he would be doing with the bulk of his adult life. Perfect, golden Thor would have impressed their father so much in the 151 and a half years that he acted as regent before Loki became eligible that a change simply wouldn't be considered. Odin would never let Loki rule while the Sleep took him unless Thor did something inconceivable, and when their father's long life came to an end it would not be Loki that ascended. There could be only one king, and even if it had only been announced today the choice had been made very long ago.

Maybe more wine hadn't been a good idea. It had just scattered his thoughts and made him depressed. It wasn't like being tied down to a chair and forced to deal with idiotic and petty squabbles was what he wanted out of life, anyway. At least it was a beautiful night. He finally drained the cup and placed it on the railing's edge. Loki simply wasn't feeling the mood for a party anymore. He was just about ready to brave the Hall again, this time on his way to bed, when a flash of light glimmered to his left. He spun about, a dart of magic in one hand, a dagger of steel in the other.

On the floor in front of him was a rectangular package. It was wrapped in parchment and tied with simple twine, but magic oozed off it. Loki's name was emblazoned on the top, written in his own hand. Well, that was curious. There were very few forgers out there that could fool Loki's keen eye, something that made him actually useful at court from time to time. It certainly looked like his own signature, though he most definitely didn't recall ever seeing the package before. Even the magic clinging to the thing felt familiar. Not quite his own, like he'd used some kind of enchanted device rather than his own power, or an imperfect mimicry.

Officially, he was no longer bored. He might even have come a few steps closer to sober. 

Loki gently poked at the thing, both with his dagger and his magic. He had enemies, and the Allfather had enemies, and the cowards aiming their assassination attempts at the court tended to point themselves at weak little Loki. Weak, thin, feminine little Loki who had killed every one of them that managed to so much as muss his hair in highly efficient ways. Honestly, someone needed to get word around that being built like a willow tree instead of a brick wall did not make him fragile. It had certainly never stopped Mother from ending the ones that came for her, after all.

It was a box wrapped in parchment. Nothing popped out when it was prodded. Poison did not seep through the wrapping when it was turned over. Whatever was inside rattled slightly against the box as it tipped, as if it was mostly empty and had a few things - one heavy - loose inside. The string was not attached in any way to the interior of the box. The rough and powerful magic he felt on it dissipated rapidly, the hallmark of a rapidly done transport spell, leaving few traces behind. Examining the remaining wisps of magic dispersed them completely without revealing anything. Cutting the string caused no reaction. Neither did carefully peeling the paper back.

There was a book inside. Several detection spells showed no trace of poison. Beneath the book was a slightly crushed scroll and an odd device with a wire trailing out of it. Closer, careful inspection revealed it to be an audio playback device. Someone had given Loki a gift on Thor's name day.

Loki flicked his wrists and the box slipped into a pocket of magical space he'd carved for himself with hardly any effort at all. The hiding place was physically anchored to his body, and so anything he put there was available whenever he wanted it. It was also perfectly undetectable and impossible to steal from. He really liked the spell, even though the initial creation of the hiding place had been exhausting and not an altogether painless process. If anyone wanted to take his stuff they'd be carving out one of his ribs to do it, and if things had reached the point where he was being filleted such a theft was likely not his highest concern. He'd once used water to try and judge how much space he had available and drained the pond in his mother's garden dry, then still was able to insert several of Thor's shoes before having to put the water back in a hurry before his parents came home from an outing in the marketplace. The shoes had come out dry, to his disappointment and curiosity, so he'd tossed them into the pond to not let the job go unfinished.

Slipping into his suite, Loki summoned the box onto his desk and pulled out the book, as nothing could ever be more important than a book in a box of random items. It was an instructional volume about a physical discipline where people slowly learned to fold their bodies into pretzels. According to the introduction, it focused on breath control and balance while putting oneself in difficult to maintain poses in order to build strength and flexibility. Near the back of the book the illustrations, which were expertly drawn in multiple view angles, looked equal parts impossible and painful. No man could put his leg like that and remain a man. Something precious would tear. Loki put the book down, disappointed that it wasn't about some esoteric magic or at least a bawdy romance.

The audio device was next. He liked it immediately, as it was a bright emerald green teardrop that fit nicely in his hand with a simple mechanical interface on one side. It was powered by a weak magical field that recharged in the sun or via his own will, much like many of his childhood toys. The leads to the earpieces were a bit tangled. It might contain something incriminating he could use at court. Or, it could be magical knowledge that could only be imparted from one sorcerer to another via All-speech and never written down. Or, it could be directions on the spells needed in order to endure the pain of the pretzel stretching book. Or, it could be the sound of two people doing delightfully naughty things to one another. Or, it could be his brother saying something completely moronic that he could tease him about endlessly. He finished fiddling with the tangled wires and set the ends into his ears, activating the playback.

A stringed instrument was playing. It was unlike anything he'd ever heard before, a warped sound with layers and layers of notes weaving in and out of one another. An artificial sound, like that made by raw magic sparking and chiming, joined in along with many other odd instruments he'd never heard before. Was that an organ? A lute? He was decidedly unsure if he liked it, though it was grandiose and chaotic enough for his taste. Another song played. The music swelled and crashed, then ebbed into a quiet dancing of sound. Another started, so he paused the playback, glancing at the text displayed in the crystalline device. It said _'So Clear Instrumental - Voicians_.' While instrumental was understandable and accurate, nothing about the music was clear and he had no clue what 'voicians' meant.

There was nothing for it, he'd have to be boring and read the included scroll to understand the gift. It looked perfectly ordinary. A simple full-size scroll of parchment folded over once before rolling, tied with the same twine as the box. It had been rumpled a bit by his probing. He sniffed it, trying to detect a perfume or other odor that would let him guess the source. With a flourish he opened it, absently weighing down the corners with the polished hematite paperweights he favored. It was written in what looked like his own handwriting and the ink reminded him strongly of Aesir blood.

\----------------------------

 

 

> Prince Loki,
> 
> Terrible things happen to the minds of sorcerers who tamper with time. We already have our plans, but I know how they fail. You must find a way to win. We must not fail again, but if we do, you must write this letter. Make it a good one. We don't want to do this again and again and again and ag.-./.-..-.-~-
> 
> If memory serves, the biggest concern in our stress-addled mind is bedding a few willing women. Step one: shape shift into a woman. Next, figure out how to masturbate. It is not as obvious as it seems, and apparently few men of Asgard bother to understand the subtleties. Study this process nightly until we are competent. Then find a woman who will tell everyone how fucking brilliant we are at fucking. Remember: ladies first is not just for open doors.
> 
> We will NEVER match Thor by picking up a hammer and swinging it around. Stop acting like this is even the remotest possibility. We are flexible, and fast, and full of so much magic we could **unmake the worlds**. Study magic voraciously with or without purpose, but _do not neglect martial training._ We were raised a warrior, and we can FIND YOUR OWN WAY.
> 
> Know your enemy better than you know yourself. We must not suffer preventable ignorance.
> 
> Do things personally, suffer no lackadaisical moments, but respect experts. Collect them like precious gems.
> 
> If we wish for death, think of mother. Go to her at first opportunity and extract a hug. Yes, this time also.
> 
> When Thor falls to Midgard after his coronation, you will have news for him shortly. Do not lie to brother. _Be kind._ Do not lie. For one week, be the most perfect son of Asgard that was ever conceived in the mind of a dreaming child.
> 
> When we fell, we became a puppet. DO NOT PLAY along. Lie low and find loopholes! Lie and cheat and manipulate until the puppeteer is dead. Enemies and allies are so easily fluid titles, but we are a servant of Yggdrasil. Alternatively, DO NOT FALL off the Bifrost, unless certain death awaits us. Remember, if we fail, we must write this letter.
> 
> Phillip Coulson is a man to talk to, if you have the time, if everything is wrong.
> 
> The cursed/convergence will take our mother's life.  We will be mad by then if we are failing. We will eventually remember all ourselves in all our fragmented pieces of **infinity** , and eventually write this letter.
> 
> SURVIVE. We have a reason for chaos now. WIN. Fight for it.
> 
> Yours, mine, and ours,
> 
> Loki the Liesmith

\----------------------------

Loki scampered backwards until his back pressed against the far wall of his sitting room. There was no way in all the worlds that this was real. It smelled of blood… it was written in blood! It was written in his own hand, fairly legibly save the end of the first paragraph, where the words 'and again' were repeated over and over in smaller and smaller letters until it was just a terrifying squiggly line implying nothing good. This was the single worst joke anyone had ever pulled on a drunk man in the history of bad taste.

He needed to calm down, quaking like a terrified child would solve nothing. Something about the convergence would take his mother's life? Right, not going to happen. As far as Loki was concerned, Frigga would outlive the nine realms. Thor could tease him all he liked, but when he was in the palace Loki spent very Sunday morning with their mother doing whatever the Queen wanted. Planting flowers? Yes, mother. Learning spells to keep his clothes tidy through the day? Yes, mother. Helping her decide what dresses to wear to Thor's name day celebrations? Yes, mother. Loki vaguely remembered being bribed with peppermint sticks when he was young, but he genuinely loved spending the time as just the two of them. Besides, it kept good will in high reserves for when the servants open a spare room to find it full of frogs, or other such antics.

Sufficiently calm, Loki walked back to his desk and read the bloody words again. Then a third time, for certainty. This was the raving of a broken mind. It started out clearly enough (ignoring the first paragraph,) with short, simple instructions that actually sounded doable. Each section thereafter made less sense. Falling off the Bifrost was certain suicide, and therefore that whole paragraph was likely a cypher or tortured metaphor. The section professing his mother's death had a stray mark between 'cursed convergence' and he wondered if it was deliberate, or indicated some level of uncertainty. Sitting back, he looked at the book. It was innocuous enough, so he picked it up to calm himself a little more before attempting sleep.

"If this is someone's idea of payback, they are going to get a lot more than a room full of irritated amphibians when I find them," Loki mumbled to himself as he skimmed the opening section. As he spoke he finished the introduction and turned the page.

"No, just lots of blood," was scratched into the top corner of the next page in red. Loki dropped the book.

"Going to bed, now," he babbled. "Just going to bed." He raised every security spell he had carved into his chambers, and cast a few extra ones besides. He repacked and magically sealed the box, then stuffed the box with all it's horrible contents into his hiding place. For the first time in a while, he slept with a candle lit.

\----------------------------

The next morning Loki crawled out of bed, miserable from hangover and a lack of sound sleep. He made his way through his morning routine slowly, arriving at breakfast clean and tidy as ever. The celebration was continuing, it usually wouldn't fully wind down for a week given the spring holiday that fell just after Thor's birth. Some people had clearly not slept, others were dragging themselves into the Hall rumpled yet ready for the next round. Loki aimed to take a place near the door to the throne room where his mother was sitting. She was among a crowd of older ladies, her own peers, and as soon as they spotted him he was sucked in - a place made right in the middle for him to sit.

Well, he couldn't very well refuse such an effusive invitation.

"Good morning, Mother," Loki gushed, not at all worried that the horrible nightmare he'd had last night was prophesy about her death.

"Good morning, Loki. You look well this morning," Frigga lied, a little smile on her face that asked: _Do I need to meet the young lady that kept you up all night?_

"If I look well, then you look stunning," Loki quipped. The devoted son was always a crowd pleaser in these situations, and he heard the ladies tittering. This is just what he needed, something so normal and overbearing that he simply would not be able to think about the box. "And how are the rest of you? Is every man in the realm so hung over that you are left with only yourselves for company? For shame."

That started a tittering of 'how sweet the young prince is,' and 'he can be so charming,' and 'where did my daughter wander off to?' He endured a long questioning of his personal life: He was not attached to any young ladies at present. He had been studying some variations on illusion spells, would you like to see? When he goes to the training grounds he favors a spear… Frigga beamed like the sun throughout, and Loki was glad to have pleased her.

_If we wish for death, think of mother. Go to her at first opportunity and extract a hug. Yes, this time also._

The letter still weighed on his mind, and it couldn't hurt anything to follow that particular piece of advice. When he'd had his fill of tittering older women and more than his share of sweet pastries, he swooped around the table to hug his mother quickly. She was stunned, and he invented a few words as a cover.

"This is as much a party for you, mother, as you did all the work this day so many years ago," Loki whispered the embarrassingly sappy words, sure his mother would assume it was the hug that was the cover.

"Oh, Sweetness, go on and enjoy yourself before you make me cry," Frigga demurred, and Loki departed.

"The silver-tongue loves silver hair," a sing-song voice called as Loki left the Great Hall.

"Go to Hel, Fandral," Loki griped. The swordsman was one of his least favorite people of late.

"Such perfect manners!" the blond man gushed, imitating the court ladies. He jumped back and forth in the doorway, blocking Loki's path, looking like he'd just crawled out of bed.

"Am I not allowed to be kind to my mother during these celebrations?" Loki huffed, attempting to get past the swordsman.

"Come, now, such a foul mood on such a wonderful day! Why, we were all feasting and toasting into the night. Well, all besides you."

"I was there," Loki defended. He wasn't sure where this was going. "I wonder that you are awake and dressed so early. Aren't you usually so surrounded by beautiful women that you can hardly choose between them?"

"A true man can feast the night away and still make breakfast," Fandral crowed, undaunted. "I need not ask how successful your night was."

"And yet I may indeed need ask if you are a true man, for it is gone noon and here you are, outside the Great Hall, having not made it to breakfast." It was true, the pastries had been swapped for more roasted meats and other more lunch-appropriate foods while Loki sat with the ladies. Fandral laughed, finally letting Loki pass, and went on to stuff himself yet again, bumping the prince with this scabbard as he passed.

_Do not neglect martial training._

Practically everyone would be busy feasting and celebrating. Realistically, Loki should be sure to be seen celebrating. It was unwise not to be seen so, but he couldn't help being wound up after such an experience. He had been avoiding the training grounds this last month because the Warrior's three and Thor had been there almost constantly, and in a mood to heap grief upon him past the endurance of a block. Even Hogun, who was usually dour enough not to gossip, had gotten caught up in the rush to point out that Loki was soon to be beneath Thor in a serious way. Thor was becoming a man in short order, and Loki was therefore made into a fragile little child.

Well, this fragile child was going to go slice and stab things on the training grounds, repeatedly, until he was too tired to be scared by a forged letter written in what was likely pig's blood. Besides, everyone thought him fickle. Celebrating his brother's name day and impending coronation by going to the training grounds seemed fickle enough to start a rumor, but Norns help the first person who said he was trying to be more like Thor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, the MCU tossed in a little detail at the beginning of Thor that stuck in my mind. Loki was born in 966AD. The Viking period was roughly 800-1300AD. This means that Prince Loki was born in the middle of the Viking period. Their stories painted Loki as already several centuries if not millennia old, a father multiple times, and chained up under a venomous snake.  
> Look at how they dressed Tom for the role and introduced the character in the first act of the movie: This Loki is a baby-faced younger brother no one takes seriously with no beard in a culture where longish hair and beards are a THING for grown men. Every other free man has one. So being the nerd I am, math happened and it looks like in Thor (2011) Loki is 17ish and Thor is 20ish. I know other fics do the math differently, but I don't think their life spans work for a simple fractional conversion like feet to meters.
> 
> So, if the Loki of the MCU and the Loki of myth are not the same - and given that the Loki of myth was a red-headed Jotun embodiment of wildfire born when lightning struck a tree that's not much of a stretch - then who is this guy? Where did the myth come from? What's with all this gender ambiguity?
> 
> Also, I'm a culture junkie. I studied child psychology, religion, and politics in college and as much as I'm a shut-in I love people watching. This leaked quite a bit into how I write Loki when I wasn't paying attention, at least where his interest in traveling the nine realms is concerned. He's still got that Aesir superiority thing the same as Thor, but he watches how other people do things with something between amusement and vicarious embarrassment.


	2. Adjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frigga is a good mom and Loki tries to wrap his mind around the odd package he received.

There really wasn't anyone at the training grounds other than the bare minimum of servants and guards to maintain the buildings. Loki had never seen the place so deserted. He swapped his soft green tunic and casual leather duster for his training armor alone, glad that the servants that normally helped the warriors were not available to help. The training armor was really just one of his older sets sufficiently battered to the point he wouldn't wear it elsewhere. The blockier armor had been ripped apart, enchanted, and re-assembled to tie into the training ground's safety spells once his new, sleeker set was finished. It was no less complicated to put on than his newer armor, though better than the ceremonial set he'd worn much of yesterday. Shoulder pieces had to be fitted onto the leather base and there were many small adjustments, but it was good practice of the incidental magical arts. He could not levitate things for long, true flight was a fiddly thing, but bending and manipulating them was simple enough. Perhaps he did miss the company of a servant to help him, just so he could say that the young prince was old enough to dress himself before using more magic than strictly necessary and donning his armor in a shower of sparks. On third thought, that did seem a bit too much like the whining of a child.

Self-guided training was inherently boring, and training in the deserted grounds even more so. It wasn't long before the repetitive movements of the sword drills became uninteresting. A quarterstaff and a floating target that moved and fought back (if only a little) lasted even less time. Thor could be out here all day, every day for nearly a month, and Loki hadn't managed an hour before he wanted to go back to his books. What an auspicious start to the new leaf he was meant to be turning over. The routines were just too routine for Loki: he'd mastered these drills centuries ago and they could no longer hold his interest. What a ridiculous discovery, that he actually could not train without the constant babble of an audience's negative commentary or a drill leader's impatient shouted commands across the field.

He shifted his stance, spinning the staff in one hand as he thought. The floating dummy backed off since it only responded to proper form, and was shaped to encourage the correct movements of a staff or spear in combat. He needed something for his mind to do while his body was doing this. Doing his best to feel casual about it, Loki pulled the audio device from his hiding place. A few sparks of magic clipped the wire to his armor and the player itself to his belt. His sober mind recognized the music player as a cheap thing common in the marketplace, but reinforced by some delicate and powerful spellwork for additional durability, currently set to randomly pay whatever songs were taught to it. He had to take off his helmet a moment to fit the ear pieces in, but the dummy was Loki's only company and it certainly wasn't bothered by the wait.

He started again, careful of keeping proper form, this time with alien music ringing in his mind. Before long he was timing his hits to the music as if choreographing a deadly dance. He couldn't hear the sounds the dummy made, the grinding and shuffling sounds that telegraphed its responses just before it moved where masked by the music. That made it doubly interesting.

Some of the songs rushed forward in a rage, others were delicate and thready. None were anything like the songs of Asgard, and the novelty was distracting by itself.  So far most were instrumentals, but there were some with distorted voices that raised the hair on the back of his neck. The sounds of madness and anguish - a warning? There were also clear vocal pieces, even a few that would not sound out of place in a tavern, and he would be picking their lyrics apart some other time. He caught himself singing along to one rather repetitive song. A glance showed that Voicians term again, and the unsurprising phrase 'A Great Distance.' Did that make Voicians the artist's name? It was a foreign name for certain. There had been a number of different phrases glittering in the device when he spared it a glance, but it was all too unfamiliar to be sure what they meant.

The song in question was not the type one associated with repeatedly smacking a wooden automaton with a quarterstaff. The notes and inflection of the voice were soothing for most of the song, like a lullaby. The music accompaniment strange and haunting. The lyrics were sad, a lamentation. Loki started the song over with a tap and set it to repeat. There were places where the sadness built into a burst of triumphant rage, as if the great distance in question was both a terrible thing and an achievement. It also had the ring of something awkwardly translated from the artist's native tongue, with some of the words fitting oddly into place and the voice accented heavily even though he double-checked that his grasp of the All-Speech hadn't been altered.

"The threads of life are woven, with so few we have chosen, we find ourselves in such dynamic states," Loki sang a few of the lyrics as he fought. "Something in my mind, something in my mind, a sort of place I find A Great Distance!" He swirled around his target, punishing it as the title lyric was repeated over and over, each time with more vocal power. The song reset to a calmer tone, and he took a breath before picking it back up, never stopping his movements. "... letting go of so much I've become." He flipped around, leading his way through repeating lyrics to another crescendo. "The past is gone, the future still remains. The status quo is fading fast, our present has become our past. Can we escape what's truly about to be A Great Distance?" He reassessed the meaning of the title lyric being repeated as he went through the song again. It was a thing to be conquered, and the singer was building confidence and power to do so, naming his enemy to focus his fight as a sorcerer would. The triumphant tone of the final repetition must be that moment of achieving the necessary power. The song repeated well, and its structure gave it an unending quality even in a single pass, as if each hard-won victory led into the next trial. Oh, but he liked this!

The tap on his back nearly shocked him out of his skin. It usually took a lot to sneak up on him, but his attention had been completely held by the cipher song and training dummy. He whirled around, staff first - and managed to stop just before he smacked his brother in the head.

"Is this choir practice or the training grounds?" Sif teased. The female warrior had certainly earned her place as one of the best in the realm and Thor's friend, and she was also one of the least trusting of Loki. Some would say it was because he had once cut her blond hair and overpowered a color-change spell at the roots. Loki insisted that the permanence had been accidental and that she'd deserved the lesser prank he'd planned. Sif never admitted to any wrongdoing on her own part and insisted that he'd intended to permanently color her hair as dark as his own. Loki had yet to tell her that he learned enough to reverse it, and wouldn't until she apologized to him. She didn't necessarily have to apologize for the original offense, any apology would do and there was ample reason for her to offer him one in any given year, but she had never given him one. She, and the warriors three, were standing just behind Thor and they _had just heard Loki singing repetitive nonsense._

"The grounds were empty, so I thought to fill in the silence with some music," Loki evaded. Just enough truth there. He pulled the music player back into his hiding place without even needing to remove the earpieces. They didn't seem to appreciate the finesse.

"Well, we are all gathering now," Thor laughed, and it was true. It looked like half the revelers from the previous night were filtering into the yard behind them, or at least all those in Thor's age group. Loki hid his embarrassment behind a careful smile.

"Have you run the palace out of mead already?" Loki quipped.

"No, it's a challenge! We thought to test our strength before dinner, and work up a proper apatite." Thor boomed, clearly in one of his best moods, but the smile faltered a little. "Is all well, brother?" he asked suddenly, in a quiet tone. "You sounded..."

"I mimicked the song I was hearing. Surely you know how well I can do such things," Loki evaded.

"And is that how you train your deceptive skills? By doing something that has nothing to do with what you are saying?" Volstagg chuckled. The huge red-head was known as Volstagg the Voluminous, at least by those who disliked him. The man had been cursed by a hag in his youth and while Loki doubted some of the details Volstagg had given him about its nature, the man's endless hunger and incredible fecundity were obvious enough symptoms of how it magnified his traits. The eldest of the Warriors Three, he had a combination of a lack of grace and extreme luck that had him tripping into opportune situations both in battle and in life. Loki resented that the other man fell so easily into such boons even if it was the symptom of a curse when Loki himself had to work incredibly hard to craft such advantages for himself. It didn't help that he was also a powerful warrior with little respect for magic and few table manners.

"Practice is the standard method of attaining any skill," Loki answered. "Don't let me spoil your fun, I'll just be going." They didn't want him here anyway; they rarely wanted him around at all. He needed to stop in his rooms for a bath; he was soaked with sweat. Given the placement of the suns in the sky, he'd been out here nearly the whole afternoon without realizing it.

"Stay, brother!" Thor insisted, grabbing Loki's arm hard enough to pinch. "You'll like this challenge."

"Will I?" Loki asked. "What is it?"

"Well, Fandral had said Volstagg could eat all that was on the table in one bite, should he be able to lift it as a bowl," Thor started. "And then it became about who could lift a table thus, but we did not want to make such a mess in the Hall." Behind Thor, Loki could see one of the dining tables being brought into the yard.

"The challenge is to lift the table, then?" Loki guessed, happy to skip to the end. Everyone else seemed to be tipsy again, and such a pissing contest was easily explained by a bit of drink.

"Yes, to lift it to your mouth with the weight of a boar on it. It should be fun to watch!"

"I'm sure," Loki said, mind spinning. Of course, the offer was not to participate, but maybe... "I might be a disadvantage, as you are all fresh and I have been here since just past noon." Thor laughed and clapped Loki's back hard enough to pitch him forward a step. As usual, Loki was able to brace himself in time to avoid the embarrassment.

"Then come, and we will give you first chance at it." Thor was still laughing. Yes, Loki had not been fully genuine, but that didn't make it a joke.

Loki didn't actually get the first chance, as the crowd was far too eager to begin. One of the captains was already trying to lift the table at one end. He tilted it up and away from him an inch or two, but the soldier could not get the legs on the far end to shift. Still thinking, Loki waved Fandral forward, then went back to standing at attention with his hands behind his back. Fandral lifted it higher but still failed to get the legs on the other side to part with the ground. At this point no one expected Loki to try at all, and the contest went on for a long while. Each man tried to lift the table and failed. At last Thor tried, and even he could not overcome the leverage disadvantage of having a dead boar sitting in the middle of the long table. He did get the distant legs to bounce up off the ground further than anyone else when he jostled it.

The contest was then deemed over, and people started to leave. Thor was still laughing with his four closest friends next to the table when Loki walked up to it. A few others were hanging around, but no one was paying any attention. Loki then took out one of his daggers and in less than a second carved a rune on the edge of the table. In a swift motion, he lifted the table up to the level of his eyes, then pitched forward and dropped it. It was still devilishly heavy.

"And what trick is that?" Hogun the Grim asked. With a note of respect, actually, though it set the others into chuckles.

"The rune lets me use my magical strength instead," Loki explained simply.

"Ah, yes," Volstagg chuckled as he stepped up to the table, "so now anyone could... they could..." The large man could no longer shift the table at all. "Stop sticking it to the ground!"

"I've done no such thing, it just requires magical strength to move the table top now." Loki shrugged and pointed to the boar. "Not the boar, though, or the legs. It only affects the whole table top because the wood is one big..."

"A fine cheat, fit for a trickster," Fandral snapped. Now that was not funny at all, not even to Thor.

"Come now, Fandral, the task was to lift the table and my brother has done that very thing."

"It's still not a fair victory," Sif reminded.

"I used my own strength, with a little knowledge. You could have also done it without magic if you had a fulcrum to..."

"Sometimes, brother, you are too clever by half," Thor interrupted. At least his teasing wasn't cruel, and Loki was fairly sure his brother was impressed. "Aren't you curious as to what you've won?"

"Won?" Loki asked innocently. No one had mentioned stakes for the challenge.

"A kiss from the Lady Sif," Hogun supplied into the expectant silence.

_Ladies first isn't just for doorways._

Well, while that instruction was framed in a less chaste discussion, it was a reminder that manners were important to women. He wouldn't have even been in this situation if it wasn't for the damned letter, so it had better contain some relevant advice. Lady Sif looked like she'd rather stab him than kiss him, and this was a singularly terrible situation to be in. Not that she wasn't also one of the most beautiful women in the realm, but she was probably the one most proficient at removing body parts. Efficiently, and with brutal skill.

"I did not know, and did not try until the contest was already over."

"I beg your pardon?" Sif seethed.

"The contest was over, and people had turned their backs on it, so whatever I did was out of curiosity. As I did not participate in the contest, you are under no obligation to kiss me for succeeding. If you wanted to, that is another matter, but I will hardly force you to do so when you are so obviously against the idea."

"Are you saying you'd rather mock me than kiss me?" Sif raged quietly, through clenched teeth, while getting so far into Loki's personal space that he had to control a flinch. He would not cup himself until he was sure she was going to kick him.

"If I had known the prize, I would not have mocked the challenge by finding a way around the clearly impossible task." A blatant lie, but he kept the smile from his face.

"Then you would have rather embarrassed yourself straining against an impossible task than kiss me?" Sif bit back, and inch from him. _Obviously not,_ was what Loki didn't say. He also didn't say, _No man with a working cock in the realm would turn down a willing kiss from you._ That would just get him kicked harder.

"I would have honored you, by treating the situation with the respect it deserved. Some things should not be mocked," Loki provided instead of more honest words, keeping his tone even and polite. Sif wavered, then scowled.

"I will _not_ be kissing _you_ ," she asserted.

"I realized that several decades ago," Loki agreed again, nervousness clawing at his guts for being trapped repeating himself. "Hence, I give you the respect you deserve by not insisting upon it."

Then, Sif kissed him. It was over before the action fully registered, a quick peck on the cheek, and he couldn't help the enormous grin that split his face. She didn't see it because she was already storming away, shouting.

"Never let it be said I don't honor my bets."

"That was impressive," Thor murmured. Loki could only chuckle, giddy with victory.

"That silver tongue is as sharp as ever," Volstagg laughed, with Loki for once rather than at him. "I rather thought that if someone she didn't like won the contest, she'd kiss her own fist and punch him with it."

"When she realizes the trick, she's going to be out for your blood," Fandral warned. Loki really hated him sometimes.

"When you realize that I don't need to lie about respecting Sif, or women in general, you will see there was no trick, and offer me an apology," Loki shot back honestly before thinking, the better part of his mind still too busy with _she kissed me, and she wasn't even drunk!_

"Truly, brother, tell us more about the esteem you hold for the Lady Sif," Thor encouraged, starting the group walking off the field by putting a hand on Loki's shoulder and pushing him along. Really, Thor could have just started walking and they all would follow.

"It is no more than any of you hold, surely. I respect her, as I said."

"How about those several decades ago, then?" Volstagg blustered, mocking. "What tale is this that we haven't heard of lost love between you and the fair lady Sif."

"She is beautiful. Only a blind man wouldn't know, and only a suicidal fool would deny it, particularly to her face while she is in a rage," Loki began.

"A fair point," Fandral interrupted.

"She also thinks little of me, when she thinks of me at all. Personally, I find the idea that she could, if I were in a vulnerable position, cut off my - ahem - arm without breaking a sweat a good reason not to antagonize her."

"Your _arm?_ " Hogun emphasized.

"Don't worry, trickster, I'm certain you'd make a handsome woman if that ever came to pass."

"Peace, Volstagg, this is my brother," Thor chastised. Well, it seemed there _was_ a limit to the insults Thor would let be heaped upon Loki's back, at least within his range of hearing. Imagine that.

"I do have a name if you would manage to remember it," Loki bit back. "I do realize two syllables can be a bit much to ask."

"Peace, Loki, you are in a mood today," Thor insisted. Loki desperately tried to communicate the idea that he did not want to have this conversation in front of the warrior's three in what was now a crowded hallway where anyone could hear. Unfortunately, Thor did not understand the subtle shaking of his head or his stiff posture. Loki wasn't quite certain when they'd stopped being able to understand one another without copious explanation.

"Perhaps the young Prince Loki had too much wine last night," Fandral cooed. "You know he can only have so much."

"Do I need to say it a third time? Friends, this is a day of celebration!" Thor grumbled.

"Exactly," Loki shot in, seeing his opening, "and I am dusty from hours in the field. I'll go and change."

"No one will notice, and you _should_ wear your armor to dinner. We all are," Thor pointed out.

"No one would notice or care if you did so, Thor, but it is not the same for me. It is expected that I look my best, always."

"If that is true, which I do not believe, then that is their problem. Now, come feast with us. You will be better for it."

"A moment, then, to put away my staff." This set off a round of lewd jokes, which let Loki dart into the private changing room. The staff landed neatly in its place when he tossed it. He took off his helm and put it away while his magic undid the many straps and buckles on his armor. He'd never had to get out of his armor alone and in a hurry, and he surprised himself with the speed. Apparently using magic to put it on made reversing the procedure the matter of a single thought. Normally it was only the heavily enchanted formal armors that could do such a thing, though they dissolved in impressive displays of light rather than this snakelike shuffling of buckles. Perhaps it was just an accumulation of magic energy over time? He kept the sheath trousers on, but pulled off his soaked tunic and dusty boots. A quick freshening spell, the motions of which also stretched out his recently abused arm muscles, had him dry and odor-free. He then stepped into his formal ankle-high boots, disliking the way the high polish looked next to the utilitarian trouser legs, and let his magic lace them up while he picked up his top. The door opened just as he was flipping the finely spun tunic over his head.

"I may have to think more carefully about how many women you've lain with, brother, knowing that you can strip and dress again in the time it would take me to unbuckle my bracers," Thor's voice rumbled from behind Loki. When his head cleared the neck of his tunic he glanced behind himself to see his elder brother leaning on the door frame. The younger man snatched up the simple leather duster he'd worn to breakfast, irritated that he'd been denied a bath and the chance to get the properly formal clothing that he'd left hanging in his bathroom. Loki ignored whatever the idiots three were giggling about in the hallway. For now, it was just the two of them, and their verbal sparring was as fun to Loki as their physical sparring was to Thor. It helped that the joke was also quite complimentary of a part of his ego that had taken entirely too much punishment recently.

"If it takes you that long to get only your bracers off, I fear for the poor women who must sit and wait about in your bedchamber, wondering if they shall be tended to before dawn," Loki joked.

"Ah, but when I have done it properly, the women help pull the armor off me," Thor defended. Loki brushed past him and noticed all the raised eyebrows. Apparently, his quick change was just as impressive as Thor thought it was.

"It's an illusion, right, and you still have the armor on," Fandral theorized. Thor pat his brother's shoulder.

"Such tricks can not withstand touching. I think there is much we can talk about this night, brother!"

"Would it not be more appropriate, if you need instruction in how to dress yourself, to speak to Mother? I would think she had already taught you such skills long ago." Loki and Thor continued trading barbs as they walked to the Great Hall together. The conversation was peppered with cheap shots from Fandral, cool observations from Hogun, and blessed silence from Volstagg. All three were categorically on Thor's side of any argument, but it seemed that Loki managed to impress them slightly. For Volstagg, the mild disapproval Thor had shown him made him hold his tongue until the scent of dinner drifting through the hallways had captured his attention.

\----------------------------

Walking into the great hall in step with Thor tonight was a wholly different experience from the previous evening, where Loki had been formally introduced as part of a procession of nobles. It also sharply contrasted from his usual quiet entrance on less formal evenings, where he could carefully examine the room and choose a place in the celebration that would be most beneficial for whatever his current aim. Walking in with Thor on only the second night of such a feast meant a tide of people swept them up and poured beer into cups before Loki could even assess his position in the crowd. Loki didn't know who was at his back, which untrustworthy people had been within arms reach of the cup in front of him in the last five minutes, or even where any of those with grudges against him were seated! Thor had drained his cup and smashed it onto the floor before Loki finished silently checking his cup for unwanted content, and then Loki had to drink it regardless as his only viable answer to the hesitation was that he waited for the man of the hour to have the first taste. No one appreciated his paranoia, no matter how many assassins cropped up in his path.

He was given some chance to orient himself as his deferential gesture became a toast. In fact, many of the less friendly members of the court were (worryingly) collected on the other end of the room. They were not gathered, and most were not easily within sight of one another for any covert hand signals, but they were a bit too concentrated for his taste. That would bear watching. If Loki had not been caught in Thor's wake, he would have inspected and potentially disarmed whatever was going on before settling next to his brother to feast. He would have to keep a watchful eye from here and hope no one had anything terrible planned for tonight.

All these good intentions and careful considerations of the known entities of court drama fell utterly apart over the next hour. To sit next to Thor tonight was to always have a full cup, plate, and conversation. Even worse, Thor was counting Loki's cups. Aloud. It would be horrifically shaming, except Thor was only ever genuine about such motives.

"Three! Another! My brother's spirits have been low of late. I am determined this day to raise them on a tide of good drink and good feasting. Come, help me in my quest!" Thor's jovial bellowing ensured that Loki could not go unseen for even a moment. The exposure was grating. What was the point of total chaos if he couldn't have a moment to harness it? One of the best parts of these feasts was Loki's ability to eavesdrop or sneak up on people in the writhing crowd. Sure, he might enjoy attention like this later on in the evening, but to start so early on was a waste.

"I can hardly enjoy good feasting if I haven't a moment to feast," Loki said, putting down the full mug that had just been pushed into his hands at Thor's cry of 'Five.' He was about to take some of a delicious orange duck that one of the servants Loki liked had brought over when Volstagg tossed a piece of venison at him.

"That sweet stuff will spoil your stomach, silver-tongue," Volstagg insisted. "That's why you never get far into your cups. Stick to the roasts or the cheeses, and this bread is..." Volstagg continued to wax poetic about the other foods that were piled high on the table. The duck was gleaming in thick, enticing sauce so Loki ignored him and took half the duck - it had clearly been brought over for him anyway - as well as a selection of vegetables.

"I will take your advice on the potatoes, Volstagg, but this duck is divine." Loki's comment prompted the huge man to tear off the duck's other leg. Loki took a bite at roughly the same time as Volstagg, though about a tenth the size, and received the delightful surprise that the sauce glaze was not orange today, but a tart cherry.

"Like candied joy!" Volstagg shouted over the crowd.

"My favorite," Loki answered, and realized that he'd just had a conversation with the bully of a man without wanting to stab him in the eye with a spoon. A safe topic of conversation established, the rest of the group started listing off their favorite things to eat. Sif materialized, sitting down opposite Thor as the Warriors Three shifted to make room. The shuffle sent Volstagg away and left Hogun in the place opposite Loki. Thor was distracted talking to Sif and another woman on his left.

"Thor is not the only one getting older," Hogun said as he settled in, not loud enough to carry far in the noisy hall. "Your skill with a spear has become impressive."

"I am a prince of Asgard," Loki replied as if that explained everything. It rather did, if one bothered to think about it for a minute. He took another bite to show he wasn't going to explain, but it seemed that wasn't what Hogun wanted anyway.

"The trick with the table, though, that is surprising," Hogun continued. "You said the rune converted magical strength into physical."

"Yes, in order to move that table a person must not only have the physical power to lift the weight of the unaffected parts, the metal legs and boar in this case, but also the equivalent magical power to move the table top," Loki explained. It wasn't often anyone took an interest in how he performed his tricks. Then, "It occurs to me I should have removed the rune before we left, as in its current state the servants won't be able to move it." Hogun almost smiled at that, just a crinkle around the eyes, but the dour man didn't laugh as easily as the others. It was part of why Loki disliked him the least out of Thor's friends: amusing him was a challenge.

"So you proved today you have more magical strength than any of us has physical strength?"

Loki felt pinned as surely as if the Vanir had stuck him to the bench seat with an arrow. Certainly, he had thought that himself when he was devising the best possible way to beat the impossible test, but he didn't think anyone would notice it. Hogun the Grim was a serious warrior, and a more thoughtful man than most when off the battlefield. He was not born of Asgard and therefore thought differently than the others on a number of subjects. Loki could not help but notice that since Sif was sitting right next to Hogun, she could likely hear him even though she didn't look like she was paying the slightest amount of attention.

"I suppose," Loki demurred. "Levitation and flight are actually two of the hardest things to achieve through magic. Bending it to lend strength to my hands and arms, at least in as much as it affects a single solid object, was much easier. While the end result appeared the same, my method actually allowed for the use of my strength on the center of the tabletop's mass rather than only on one end."

"You should come with me to Vanaheim when I go home next. There are more magic users in my homeland than in Asgard." That wasn't true, but few in Asgard used magic during combat. It was a women's skill in this realm, after all.

"I had not found them very welcoming in the past."

"You were still very much a child when you asked before. It has been a good few hundred years if memory serves. Have you tried again since?"

"The rejection I received seemed, how should I put this, rather final," Loki replied. That was putting it mildly. In response to a demonstration of his skills with magical flame, which they requested when he asked for entry to the temple, the temple staff on Vanaheim ran him off in a shower of ice water. True, he'd used the flames to startle a number of people at the gate of the temple school, but those were cold flames and did no damage. For all the fussing people did over the tricks he played, very few even had the chance of truly dangerous fallout. He was known as the God of Mischief, after all, not pain and suffering.

"Try again, as a man instead of a boy they are more likely to accept your application to study. That is, if they have anything left to teach you," Hogun suggested, then drained his cup. Loki waited for him to finish it before replying.

"There is always more to learn. The same ends may be achieved in many ways, and a practitioner of magic is only as useful as his mental flexibility allows."

"Loki, that is still your sixth cup!" Thor butt in. "I have just doubled you." His blue eyes were twinkling with mirth as he teased his younger sibling. Hogun raised a new cup in a toast, so Loki was forced to follow suit.

Eventually, Loki again reached a point where his sociability shut down. The drink quieted him and made the chaos around him into a fuzzy field of terrifying possibility. Unfortunately, he was still trapped at his brother's side. People he couldn't see coming were walking _behind him,_ often brushing against his back. This was not at all pleasant, and there had been a time or two in the past when stomach-turning fear had caused him to vomit. This was what gave him a reputation as a light weight: fear, not dizziness, clawed at him when the alcohol lowered his shields. A strong arm wrapped around him suddenly, and Loki jumped.

"You aren't sick already?" Thor had the good grace not to shout this question to the whole room, though his sudden change in volume would certainly be noticed quickly. Loki's panicked eyes saw that for the moment, the table was engrossed on one side by Fandral's bragging and on the other by a group of dancers.

"I am uneasy," Loki admitted, having nothing but the truth to offer his brother. Irritated at not having anything better to say, he sipped his ale. Apparently, he was still enough of a child that hiding under his elder brother's arm was a significant comfort.

"I hoped to cure that, but I fear I have made it worse." Thor meant it, and the knot of panic in Loki's gut untangled further. Thor would tear off the arm of any man trying to strike his little brother if he thought it necessary. "You were of ill spirits yesterday, as well."

"I... had a most terrible dream. It shook me. I feel like a child for succumbing to it, but that's the truth."

"You, telling the truth, now I know you are drunk," Thor replied with a good natured chuckle. "Tell me of this dream. The fear in it will fade with sharing."

"Mother was murdered repeatedly," Loki slowly spun the truth of his fears into a lie of a dream. "Over and again, in a thousand ways. I kept trying to prevent it and failing, dying myself in the process. It was horrifically vivid, Thor. I can not even begin to describe the reality of it. Once, I fell from the Bifrost in the attempt, and felt myself torn apart by the void beyond."

"Loki," the concern in Thor's voice was a balm to Loki's frayed nerves. "That is horrible."

"Another time I killed myself after her, with the same blade that stole her life. The drink is good, but it is not doing my mind any good," Loki begged.

"Have you spoken to Mother?" Thor asked, concerned.

"I had breakfast with her this morning while she was with her friends, and came around the table to hug her. I know I shocked her with the action, and earned myself a fair few jokes from Fandral."

"You did not tell her why?"

"I showed her she was precious to me," Loki shrugged. "Why should I burden her mind when we are meant to be celebrating your birth, an event that is a cherished memory for her? It was a dream, nothing more."

"The dream of a sorcerer," Thor pointed out, and damn him for being perceptive at the worst moments. "Come, I should wish her well again myself."

"I will go with you, but after I think I will retire. I did not sleep at all last night, or only in fits," Loki agreed, pitching his voice into reluctance. When Thor stood up the whole table turned. He made assurances he would return shortly as Loki excused them. Even well into his cups, Thor cut a clean path from their central location to the table closest to the throne room. There Odin and Frigga were seated among various members of the court and their families, with those most interested in plying favors in prime seats.

"Father, Mother, can we have a quick word?" Thor belted out, though it was quieter at this table.

"Is something wrong?" the All-father asked, his one eye noting the firm hand tugging on Loki's forearm and the misery Loki couldn't quite mask with all the ale in his veins.

"A small thing," Loki assured, "we need to borrow Mother from you. We will return her shortly."

"Loki," Thor started.

"Not in the Hall, please," Loki whined, making himself look as pathetic as possible. He wanted this over fast, and everyone would assume he'd had too much to drink. In his own opinion it was true. Frigga rose from the table, her beautiful gold and pink gown shimmering like a spring dawn, and herded her boys into a private nook. Loki was certain Odin would use his power to overhear their conversation or else their mother would pass it along.

"Loki had a bad dream," Thor tattled.

"Oh, yes, that makes me feel so much better and not at all like a toddling child," Loki snapped.

"Loki? Are you well?" Frigga asked, ignoring their banter to touch her younger son's forehead.

"He dreamed you were murdered in terrible ways night before last, Mother, and confessed he didn't sleep at all since," Thor corrected with greater sincerity. "I tried to cheer him, but he only grows more..."

"I am capable of speaking for myself," Loki objected. He fell silent when Frigga pulled him into a tight hug.

"So that's what was going on this morning," she guessed. "I had thought you'd done some mischief and were looking for an alibi." It wasn't an unfair assumption.

"It was... horrifically realistic," Loki admitted into her hair.

"It wasn't once, either, and he died as well. He dreamed he took his own life with the blade that killed you," Thor supplied when Loki was silent too long, "and another time fell from the Bifrost trying to prevent your death."

"Loki, I'm here, and I'm fine," Frigga soothed. "No more of this foolishness." Loki squirmed, aware that young men his age should not cling so long to their mother's embrace no matter his private thoughts.

"My magic reacted to the nightmare and made it real," he lied. The implication was shaming, but what else could he say to explain his behavior? If he told the truth, he'd be scolded for telling tall tales! "I could feel it, and smell the blood. Mother, in my dream I went mad from it. I was caught watching a thousand possibilities."

"It has been long years since your magic slipped your control," Frigga murmured to herself, refusing to let her boy go just yet. After a long moment, the young man in question had had enough coddling and untangled himself from the embrace. His left hand still held hers, though, as an anchor.

"That is exactly why I can't relax," Loki admitted. The best fabrications were spun from truth. "The feel of my own magic acting without my knowing, causing items to appear before me as if via some alien force; as if someone appropriated the use of my magic for a moment..." He trailed off. Thor's hand rubbed circles on Loki's back, fearful that his brother's pale complexion might mean a reprisal of other nights Thor had filled his brother with drink to the point of sickness.

"This has upset you," Frigga observed, "but it is only a passing fancy. We are well protected here, and you do not need to be on guard against assassins at every moment. Don't think I don't know how you keep track of those with disagreements with us in the crowd."

"There are many enemies..." Loki started.

"And we have many guards. Let them worry about our safety, Loki. This party, in particular, is secure. There are more of our own soldiers in attendance than any other kind of person."

"Most of them are drunk," he pointed out.

"As all young men ought to be at such a party," Frigga laughed.

"Indeed," Thor agreed. "It was only a passing fit, brother. As skilled as I am with my hammer, there are days my arm cramps or my grip slips. Your magic got away from you for a moment, and now you are in control again. Be well."

\----------------------------

Loki let himself be led back into the great hall after they supplied Mother with a few more details about their day. If he protested further, he would likely have to go to a healer for the night. The next cup he received must have been sent from Mother, as it was a fizzy ginger and peppermint drink that looked enough like the strong ale everyone else had. The care calmed his frayed nerves more than the tonic, as it brought back memories of begging for a second cup of the supposedly horrid stomach soother. When they had both been ill, Thor had often passed off much of his dose to Loki, who happily drank the fizzy mixture amid comments supposing his tongue was broken. Mother always noticed when only one of them burped. When it was empty he beckoned over a servant to whisper 'the same' before handing back the cup.

Three cups later - only one of them actually ale - he was in a heated debate with Fandral about the merits of stealth on the battlefield. Specifically, the merits of Loki's actions when battling a dragon several months prior. Fandral insisted that if they had all gone together in a frontal assault, they could have taken the beast.

"I made ten duplicates of myself, all tossing magic darts at her from strategic locations while I lined up the shot with my bow," Loki explained. "They couldn't hurt her much, but they kept her distracted until I could deliver a well-placed shot and bring her down."

"You should have called for us, though. There would have been no need for all that," Fandral argued.

"What, so you could be roasted alive instead of my illusions? The dragon was old, with intense flames that shot a hundred feet before starting to dissipate," Loki scoffed.

"I, for one, am impressed," Thor cut in, making Loki wonder where the redhead he'd been talking to had gone. If Thor wasn't interested in legs like that, Loki would certainly not mind snatching her up and reassuring her of her beauty. Thor's attention also shifted the attention of the revelers around them.

"Impressed with a trick?" Hogun asked.

"Impressed at Loki's marksmanship. Father told me of it when we returned," Thor explained. "He hadn't known the trouble in that village was a dragon until after Loki had been dispatched, as the reports were only of the theft of supplies by those fleeing to the larger towns."

"I know," Loki nodded, remembering his shock. "I had been sent to find facts and negotiate with rebellious villagers if possible, not engage a dragon in deadly combat."

"So you were sent alone as a mistake," Fandral started, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "and instead of sharing the glory of such a battle, you used magic to distract it so you could take a cheap shot."

"I was five hundred feet away, perched on the mountainside, and hit the beast in the eye," Loki explained slowly. "With an arrow I enchanted to explode violently. Instant death, without suffering, as befits a noble creature."

"Yes, after three hours of trying to hit it, from what I hear," Volstagg scoffed between bites.

"Loki only shot twice," Thor cut in again. "Father had Heimdall watching after he heard of the danger. He sent us out immediately to assist if needed, as you remember, and stayed with the watchman to know what was happening."

"Really?" Loki asked, only slightly exaggerating his surprise. "Was father so concerned I couldn't handle myself?"

"You had never faced such a foe alone before, brother. If you recall, you had been stabbed brutally just two weeks prior in a skirmish with the cave trolls."

"That is only because Volstagg the Voluminous decided to shout across the field of battle that I was using illusions instead of actual rocks to hinder their movements," Loki brushed the idea aside.

"And because you were hiding inside one when they used a spear to pop the illusion," Volstagg added.

"I was setting traps within them, as I anticipated them figuring out that the rocks were false," Loki insisted. "I did not anticipate them receiving help with that deduction from my own allies before I was finished." The crowd around Thor was now fully paying attention to Loki, and several jokes about Volstagg murmured through the crowd. It was well known that in that battle Volstagg had run scared, believing that the trolls were responsible for the paths closing and that they were being buried alive. It had worked out for the huge man, as he'd tripped and broken a wooden barrier that allowed him and Sif to circle around and flank the trolls, but it wasn't exactly a flattering story for him on the whole.

"A fair point, but back to the dragon. I never did get the full story from you," Thor encouraged. "Two arrows in three hours. You impressed Father greatly with the shot that killed the creature, but he didn't tell me the details of the battle."

"I knew she usually slept until noon from my interviews with the villagers, so I shot the first arrow to awaken her before dawn, after my duplicates were in place," Loki leaned in, feeding off Thor's enthusiasm. He hadn't gotten the chance to properly celebrate his first major solo victory because later the same day the dragon's mate had popped up several miles away and immediately demanded attention. Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three had taken care of him while Loki was doing what he could to heal injured villagers. The welcome home party for their adventure had been focused on the huge pile of treasure the male had hoarded, while the larger female and her death at Loki's hands had not resulted in anything more than a safer mountainside. No gold no glory, or so it had seemed, though Father had insisted that Loki take half the spoils for his own vault (after a portion was given to rebuild the village, naturally) as half the treasure belonged to the slayer of the female. The remainder was divided between Thor and his friends. Loki was fairly sure that the other warriors were still upset about that inequity.

"I'd been up since midnight setting their places. Then, I had to concentrate on their positions and viewpoints, which made doing anything with my real body nearly impossible. It mattered not that my attention was split too much to move, because staying perfectly still and quiet was exactly what I needed in order for the beast to remain oblivious to my position when the arrow glanced off her hide and woke her," Loki explained with expressive gestures. He had the crowd in the palm of his hand. "I coordinated their attacks, all using conjured daggers that would seem real as their substance splattered against her scales. I kept her moving constantly, switching which doubles were firing and which were not to keep her spinning in circles until she started to tire. A real man would have been roasted by the proximity, but the illusions would not dispel unless directly touched by her flames. At last, she was fed up with raining fire down ineffectively onto the rocky outcrops I had hidden my doubles in, and landed to get a proper bite of the fleas I'd set on her. I let her take out the first, as she had landed at a poor angle and I could only have hit the hard scales of her back. The second she took out by smashing the rock with her tail as she flew, and was moving too quickly for any accuracy."

"What did you do then?" asked a very shapely brunette dancer.

"I chose a double that was in a deeper nook to sling daggers at her, and she went for him. This time when she landed she stuck her snout into the nook as if to eat me. She would have seen me standing there quite clearly, and snapped at the illusion. She paused, likely confused about the puff of smoke she'd just ingested. In that moment of stillness, I took the shot. The enchanted arrow hit her in the eye, burrowed deep into the soft tissue behind, and a moment later obliterated the interior of her skull."

"With one arrow?" the woman asked, leaning against Loki.

"With two arrows," Fandral corrected, "three hours of waiting, and six hours of creeping around in the dark hoping not to accidentally wake the beast. It only took us two hours to kill the male."

"The female was twice his size and would have burned you from afar before you could have gotten close enough to use your sword on her," Loki retorted.

"Oh, I have no trouble getting close enough to use my sword on a lady," Fandral winked, and the woman who had been practically sitting in Loki's lap (not that he minded much her intrusion on his personal space) giggled. Loki casually looped an arm around her.

"My methods were perfectly effective, and achieved exactly the ends I meant them to," he said with a smile and a wink at the brunette. "A bit of thought and endurance can go a long way."

"An interesting tactic, to be sure, to wait for the beast to give you such an opening. It makes the shot itself all the more impressive, as it was both true aim and exact timing," Thor agreed, the redhead he'd been talking to perched behind him on the bench seat, holding onto his shoulders for balance, likely so she could 'see better.' Loki smiled and meant it.

 "Sometimes it is not the quantity, but the quality that matters," he quipped. The dancer giggled and slid fully into Loki's lap.

"Tell me another story with that silver tongue," she coaxed, purring his nickname rather than stabbing him with it.

\----------------------------

Dawn was not Loki's favorite part of the day, and the late night of drinking wasn't helping that. Loki slid sideways out of bed, yanking his curtains closed by hand to block out the rising suns. His brain hurt too much to do it with magic. He poured himself a drink from the pitcher of juice his servants had ready in front of the window, bless them. He felt as if Thor had used Mjolnir to crack open his skull and fill it with sand and angry cats. Through feel and memory more than sight he made his way into his bathroom. The water was drawn and ready, scented oils on hand but not yet added. The large stone tub had been carved specifically for him by craftsman in one of the more distant counties. He'd gone out there to settle some land disputes on one of his first journeys outside the capital without Thor. The stonemasons had seen his curiosity about how such manly work was done and fell over themselves to let him help carve the block of solid green and cream stone into an elegant oval bath. Lugging the gift home without breaking it had been more trouble than it was worth, perhaps, but he wasn't about to refuse a gift from such a powerful guild. Over the years the swirling, intentional-looking design they'd turned his novice's errors into became something he enjoyed starting his day with.

Loki spent the early morning languidly bathing and sipping juice. He had a bit of leeway today: the celebrations had progressed over days from Thor's Name Day to May Eve with little more than a shift in the color of the tablecloths, but he was still expected to make an appearance. The court was a delicate balance of politics and purpose, and if that stopped every time there was drunken revelry nothing would get done for centuries at a time. Not that anyone was likely to do anything of substance this early into a new round of celebrations, but there was always the chance. In any case, it might offer him a distraction from how last evening had ended. He wished he could clearly remember how exactly he'd ended up waking alone, but he'd been too drunk. The girl he'd started with had fallen into Fandral's orbit after a round of song, but he knew he'd left the hall accompanied by a dancer with some sort of floral name. Thor had also left the hall with a dancer at the same time. Maybe his brother would remember what happened. That was one area Thor was always happy to give him advice on, and Loki felt he was still young enough that such brotherly advice didn't yet appear completely condescending. Not that Thor was ever intentionally condescending to him, but often such intentions didn't matter.

He arrived at breakfast in good spirits. He went to sit in the middle of the available space, but Frigga caught his eye and invited him to the head of the tables. She had a knowing smile, but said nothing about the various women that had been on Loki's arm when he skittered out of the hall in a cloud of drunken giggles this past week. Instead, after greeting him she continued the delicate dance of court drama that was already in progress. The wives of several merchants had claimed the prime space at the table that allowed one to speak to the king or queen without shouting. One mentioned that this was the second time she'd seen the queen wear the cream shift dress she was currently in and implied that Frigga should buy new ones. The woman was likely selling cloth, or perhaps finished clothing. Loki slowly ate, the picture of good table manners, making sparse comments about the economy and the value of various commodities. At length, the man at his left spoke up over the droning talk of lady's fashion coming from his right.

"My name is Loxley, I do not believe we've been formally introduced," the gray haired man began. He was wearing a vest and pants as finely tailored as Loki's own, but much more gaudily adorned with gold and silver medallions on a brilliant orange background. Loki had once again opted for a more casual soft tunic at breakfast, though abandoned his trademark emerald for a dusty gray. Not one to miss his assigned colors, his leathers were all dyed shades of emerald and deep forest green, with sparse golden ornamentation on the seams.

"I am Prince Loki Odinson, and I believe you are right," he answered smoothly.

"I heard the tale you told the other night. Indeed, I had heard of it before, but not in such detail." Loki didn't respond, and the man was forced to continue talking. He seemed the type to enjoy the sound of his own voice, and would assume Loki's silence was due to nursing a hangover. He was nursing a hangover, but his cup had more than just apple juice and the edge remaining after his bath was rapidly fading as he broke his fast. "I admit to only hearing of your skill as a Master of Magic, and not much of your martial skill. I am a fletcher, as are my sons, and wonder what kind of bow you favor. The enchantment on the arrow is also intriguing."

"Such spells must be cast of the moment, and can't be stored for long. I had to hold the bow with that arrow knocked from the moment I cast it until I was ready to fire," Loki explained, trying to gauge the man's opinion of Loki's unorthodox skill set. It was a very rare thing that anyone accused him of being a Master of Magic with anything other than malice or distrust in their voice. Loki had actually fallen out of the habit of wearing the emblems of that mastery except on the most formal of occasions, as the attention they drew was almost always negative. Loxley, however, had rolled through the words as if they were an uninteresting observation of fact.

"A shame. Such a thing would be wildly useful if produced for guardsmen."

"There are enchantments that can be woven into the shaft of the arrow, and a few for the arrowhead itself. Flame is simplest, but it slows the arrow's flight by using greater friction in the air to light itself," Loki said in a bored and begrudging tone. "The ones I use tap power from their caster, and so wouldn't help you."

"Tap power?" the man echoed. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I know precious little about magic myself. My young daughter has some skill in it."

"It means they are personal spells," Loki explained, not giving away any indication that he was upset at being compared to a little girl. "I can use the arrows I enchant, but if I gave such an arrow away the person I gave it to would need to tap their own power to use it."

"The arrow knows it has changed hands?" Loxley asked, showing some determination to ingratiate himself to the prince despite not understanding the topic of conversation.

"No, it is more that the spell attempts to draw strength from the arm of the person drawing the bow no matter who that person may be. It is in that moment that the charge is set for most such spells. Something like what I did to the dragon requires much greater power, and so gains charge at several points: once in casting, again in knocking, then drawing, and finally a rush of power when fired. In that case particularly, the spell is tuned by the hand that crafts it and seeks that particular power when used. It is not a stable enchantment, such as what a fletcher or blacksmith would weave into a weapon, that gains power in other more neutral ways, but the work of a Battle Mage."

"Ah, I see. You explain it well, Prince Loki. I would wish my daughter had come with me, so you could explain it to her. I doubt I will remember all the details with the clarity necessary," Loxley sighed. "She was with my wife and in-laws for the birth of my newest nephew, but should be coming to the city to join me later this week or possibly the next."

"I am sure you will remember the most important parts," Loki evaded. He hadn't thought the conversation would take that turn. Given the tone when Loxley spoke Loki had expected his daughter to be far too young to even imply a formal meeting between her and a prince seen wenching just the night prior. Then again, she still could be, and Loxley could be playing a long game. "And I hope your family has safe travels."

"Thank you, Prince Loki," Loxley replied. He then noticed the Prince's nearly empty plate and cup. "I hope we can speak again another time."

"Perhaps. There are a number of things that call for my attention, Loxley, but I shall endeavor to make the time." Loki then looked to his right and gave his mother a nod. She smiled, understanding that all was well and back to normal, but then instead of dismissing him she drew him into a conversation with the merchant she'd been talking to.

Mother was trying to get him to wear different clothes again. It seemed no matter what they chose to wear she was never satisfied with her sons' clothing. Thor was always wearing armor in the house or else was practically in rags (to hear Mother tell it,) ignoring a wardrobe full of fashionable formal clothing. Loki was always in tunics with long vests or dusters down to his knees that accentuated his thin frame too much. For himself, he always thought it made him look taller, and he had chosen leather vests with wide or intricately sculpted shoulders in order to mask his naturally skinny frame. Today, the critique seemed focused on how stiff and overcomplicated Loki's wardrobe was, as that was how she interpreted the embellished shoulders of his current outfit.

Loki took another helping of fruit after the third hint about his thin frame and settled in for the long haul. Once his looks were on the table, it was open season on the Prince. He might not be the image of the perfected male Aesir, but he was hardly unattractive. There was always some rich merchant or struggling noble house looking to gain ties to the house of Odin through romance with one of the Princes. Naturally, Thor was the first choice, but being so ridiculously perfect meant that Thor could (and did) have as many women as he cared to. Loki's less than ideal image meant it was assumed he was unsuccessful with the ladies and was an easier target for such manipulation. While the first point was only accurate when one only compared him to his brother the second was ridiculous. If anyone would manipulate a conversation it would be Loki himself.

His recent successes on that front made the blatant attempts less welcome than usual, and he found he hadn't the patience for any of this. The All-father had left sometime while Loki was talking to Loxley, and it seemed nothing of substance would come up for conversation at all. He made his excuses and fled the room, painfully bored. In a fit of rebellion against the farce that was his life the last few weeks, he made a detour near the servant's quarters. He'd been well cared for by his own staff even with the added duties they had for the celebrations, and they deserved a reward. Playing a pleasant trick on someone was exactly the opposite of what anyone would expect him to do after leaving the dining hall in a huff.

With a few quick spells Loki slipped into their locked bedrooms and hid a couple coins in each of his servant's chambers, choosing places that were ridiculous but easily discovered such as under a book, on a pillow, or inside a cup. He also conjured flowers hanging from the ceilings, not quite hanging low enough to be a nuisance, so they'd know he'd left them something. The last time he'd done this he'd been unhappy with them, so the flowers were putrid and full of pollen that doubled as itching powder. This time, they hung as attractive chandeliers and made the stuffy little rooms smell nice. None of this took very long, and it was not yet noon when he returned to his own rooms.

\----------------------------

Loki summoned the box from his hiding place. He was half-hoping it was just a dream, and that nothing would come of him attempting to summon it. He pulled out the horrific letter and laid it down to read again. He knew enough about magic not to discard it without cause. Until someone told him this was a tasteless prank, he had to take the threat to his mother's life seriously.

If he could believe his eyes, this was written by someone who knew the future. In fact, it was written by someone who knew several possible futures and claimed to be Loki himself from one of those possible time lines. Standard paradox logic meant that as long as the letter existed, he would have to write it some day and send it back in time to himself. However, the letter referenced the infinite multi-verse according to the fragmented reality theory of time travel. This implied that while one version of himself would always have gone through whatever was necessary to produce this horrifying thing, he would not be bound by such predestination in this life. That wasn't easy to achieve, and the theory for it existed only in the loosest philosophical terms. Time, like water, preferred to flow through the easiest paths, and was a very powerful force. Diverting it in such a way would have required...

Loki didn't know what could have done it. Ragnarok, perhaps. In daylight, the bold, crisp form of the words 'unmake the worlds' almost looked shining and wet, but it was only the shading on the over-thick letters. He'd even touched them to check for illusions, but it was just dried blood on parchment. There were no instructions about the music or the book. The music, he supposed, was self-explanatory. He'd listen to it and learn the songs. Given the size of the bulb of enchanted glass, it potentially held weeks worth of unique music (and possibly other sounds) so that would take a long time. The again, the letter was generally concerned with long term results.

There were ifs and alternatives here, and that did not make the words any less believable. The dangers of messing with time were well known among the magical community. Sending himself something exact and precise would tear a hole in reality. There was always free will, always another path, always the option of stripping naked and running screaming through the palace just to cause chaos, because chaos happened. Chaos would always happen no matter what, so leaving specific instructions on how to achieve a specific goal would rend something vital. Loki hoped to never see the scarred shell of a creature left behind after such a mistake, the theoretical proofs were frightening enough. The certainty implied in the statement about his mother's death was (objectively speaking) primarily unsettling because it was a hard fact sent backward in time and only secondarily due to its content.

It was, however, near the end of the letter, and the penmanship there wasn't as neat. The writer had flayed his own mind writing it, and the rest of the letter degraded into babble with the words spaced across the page in a wild, disjointed fashion. It was entirely possible he could prevent it, the same way he could affect the other events foreshadowed in this cruel document. His mind, trained in ciphers for years, was easily able to look at how certain words fell on the page. Looking at the placement of emphasized words he could read the layered message: 'Never unmake the worlds, find your own way; Survive, do not play; Win, do not fall.' That did, in fact, seem to summarize the whole thing. Perhaps that was the whole message in the first loop. Vague, not enough to make a difference, but enough to give false hope. The more detailed passages seemed cut short and missing pieces. There was blank space here and there as if statements too detailed to withstand and maintain one's sanity had been redacted. The parchment scroll was full size, several feet wide and long, but without all the extra spaces the message could have easily fit on a half sheet of tablet paper.

The passage about wishing for death was actually the least horrible part, Loki decided, because it meant that mother would help him. He'd had those thoughts for some time, he wasn't entirely sure how long. He did remember that he had long ago decided to ignore them, certain that if anyone found out about his insecurities they'd make his life hell and that Odin would be deeply disappointed. He was the subject of enough negative gossip already and nothing good ever came of disappointing Father.

Mother seemed to be the central theme of the letter, and Loki agreed that if he was going to crack his mind and drain all his magic for someone, the short list of people worth the effort would start with her. Frigga had shared her magic with him when he was small, and later fed his voracious curiosity in every way possible. He surpassed her quickly and she'd only ever encouraged him to go further, ensuring he had tutors enough to slake his near endless thirst for knowledge well past what was considered age or gender appropriate. When he was teased about learning womanly arts, she'd twisted the hurtful words into praise and signs of jealousy. When Odin ignored his achievements or they were played down, she was the first to pull them into the spotlight to shine. The first time he'd used magic to aid in a tactical retreat, Odin had been furious and Frigga had been proud. The scuffle with bandits had left Thor exhausted and hurt while Loki had been scared and angry. It was Frigga that insisted that Loki had done the right thing by running and taking his elder brother away from a fight neither could have won and that pattern had continued through the centuries. Odin had just bellowed about how they shouldn't have been in such a position in the first place.

On a less helpful note, the letter seemed to have arrived a touch early. The second line referenced plans. Plans he supposedly already had. Something he intended to win in a long game. Loki had no such thing. He had the exact opposite, as he had absolutely no idea what to do with his life and more freedom to choose than any other young man in the realm. Father had just declared Thor would be heir to the throne, and that brought to a close everything Loki had been working toward for the last couple centuries. For Thor, everything was laid out. Loki didn't think Thor was ready yet, but there was a system and it would move forward. Loki could try to convince everyone that Thor wasn't properly prepared for the throne, but Loki had not even begun to think about that when the box arrived. Honestly, he didn't think he would need to do anything about it. Thor would reveal himself to be incompetent in short order or he would rise to the challenge as he usually did; Loki only needed to wait and watch. Now that the announcement had been made, Thor would naturally set aside his childish pastimes and devote greater time to study in preparation. Even after the coronation, Odin would stay tied to the throne with Thor learning at his side. With a century and a half of that, by the time Loki could be considered again Thor would be firmly established as King even if their Father still held the throne most of the time. Thor's life had a plan, Loki's did not. Perhaps it never had and that was the root difference between them.

Loki's short term plans included flirting with several women and convincing at least one of them to come back for a second night in his bed, if not something longer. His long term plans included outliving the people who irritated him. There wasn't much in the middle, really. Continue on as he had been, perhaps? Do some impressive magical experimentation, maybe?

Part of how he came to know so much about so many different subjects was curiosity, but the other part was aimlessness. Loki had taken classes on everything from philosophy and literature to blacksmithing and boat building. He knew the first few parts of how to make most things, but had mastered little. Perhaps he'd run off as a Ranger or take Eir's place as Head Healer and revel in the chaos and shock of such an inappropriate thing for a Prince to do. He could possibly use this wide-ranging knowledge as an adviser to the crown if Thor ever indicated that he would really listen to Loki, but in the short term their parents would fill that role. His martial skill was excellent, if unconventional, and few could beat him in a fight if he used all his abilities. They would also accuse him of cheating: when Loki fought he used his whole mind as well as his body against his opponents, and it made him a truly deadly Battle Mage. Perhaps he'd be a spectacularly intimidating head librarian or Keeper of Secrets for the palace someday.

\----------------------------

The letter was depressing him again, so he rolled it up and put it away. The pretzel people book sat innocently at the bottom of the box next to the music player. It was, perhaps, a challenge. Or, maybe the plan was referenced within? Some hint of an aspiration or goal worthy of his talents? Anything other than 'get left behind and forgotten when Thor takes the throne' would be great.

Other than the one prescient comment that still made him uneasy when he looked at it, the book was unmarked. There were no other notes to puzzle over. Well, Loki didn't really need instructions on what to do when given a book. Obviously, he was meant to read it and apply the knowledge within. He re-read the introduction and decided that the plush rug in his bedroom was the best surface. He pulled off his shoes and vest and used a bit of magic and the full-length mirror in the corner to turn the pages and keep the book where he could see it.

It was hard. He'd expected that of the later chapters, but even the simple looking poses and motions described in the first section took a toll. He was sweating and shaking after two hours, using his muscles in a way he'd never used them before. Listening to his body and remembering his martial training, he took a break from the unexpectedly vigorous workout. He drank water and performed the post-exertion cooldown methods he'd been taught as a child to shake off the strain.

When he felt ready, he ran through the first series a final time. The positioning in the book was so exact, and he strove to match it pose for pose. The instructions included told him to hold each position for a certain amount of time, and the whole thing was a very slow motion dance. The positions used his own weight against him. His long limbs meant the leverage involved often worked against him, and while he was narrowly built he was also quite solid. The exceptionally dense nature of Aesir physiology and the way his own weight worked against him made him wonder if perhaps these poses were designed for another race of creatures, particularly since the book mentioned in a footnote that some of these beginner poses were good for the elderly or infirm who wished to maintain their flexibility. This time he was a little better prepared for the next move and didn't spend a lot of extra time in a position reading about the next pose. It was still draining in a way he hadn't expected, and he even lost his balance now and again while changing from one position to another.

A servant brought him lunch, and while he ate he considered the book. There were instructions on proper breathing, nothing too strange given his other training, as well as the state of mind one was meant to achieve over time. For someone whose mind was always buzzing, the idea of being empty of thought seemed like the epitome of boredom. 'The purposes of yoga is to cultivate discernment, awareness, self-regulation and higher consciousness,' the book explained. It seemed ridiculous as a concept, the sort of inner peace shady spiritualists proclaimed their mineral water tonics would provide. He would have tossed the whole things aside if he hadn't received it the way he had. On the other hand, he had already discovered that his tolerance for repetitive, mind-numbing physical training could be raised significantly by listening to interesting music.

Self-explanatory gifts from the future, indeed. Ah, the joys of working with someone who knew exactly how smart you were and expected you to use every bit of your creative reasoning. Loki would just have to continue living his life as usual, making plans on the fly as he normally did and incorporating what he learned in the letter into the whole mess. He'd reason it out eventually. Whatever goal he was meant to strive for would likely reveal itself shortly. He'd just have to keep his eyes open.

\----------------------------

Loki was late to dinner. He'd had the idea of using his limited musical knowledge to try to transcribe the songs from his music player and lost track of time. He'd hoped that by transcribing them he could find some hidden clue or at least one that had the right timing to go along with the pose changes from the Yoga book, but so far had found none with good cues. Most of the songs were wildly complex and chaotic, and he'd given up after listening to something about a Glitch that defied his ability to analyze. He decided to learn them, at least well enough to recognize the various styles, so that if he encountered them elsewhere he would know immediately. There was no telling how many layers the message had to it, after all.

The servant's entrance was a shadowed place, and he preferred to slip in that way. He scanned the crowd looking for the woman from last night. A part of him wondered if he ought to have made time to seek her out during the day, but then he saw her leaning much too far across his brother's lap. That explained where she had gone, and he spent a moment wondering if it was worth the hit to his pride to join his brother. While he had enjoyed himself eventually in his brother's company last night, he didn't want to push too far into that group right now either. Sif and the Warriors Three disliked Loki, no matter how close Thor and Loki were. While it would seem that Thor was winding up for another round of trying to get Loki to integrate into that circle of friends, only Hogun the Grim seemed to be making an honest effort. Besides, it wasn't as if Loki spent his whole life locked in his room studying. True, most people he dealt with regularly gained some advantage from the association, but he did have his own friends. He spotted them and decided that was where he would be for this feast. Given all the preparation for Thor's name day, it had been too long since he had been in their company. The tables down this end of the Dining Hall did not have bench seats, and an observant servant scurried to slip an extra chair in at the already crowded table.

Brelyna was a sorceress with a sunny disposition. She was an eternal optimist, easily distracted, and smarter than all four of Thor's best friends combined. She'd been a friend of Loki's for less than two centuries, his acquaintance for several more, and studied many of the same magics. She was of noble blood, but her family held a very small piece of land. Her mother owned a stall in the market, and her father was a decorated veteran. They had worked very hard to pay for her education, and so Brelyna was constantly worried about money and status. Loki had actually offered to bring her along on certain adventures, explaining that she was skilled enough in certain magics to be of use, but she was too traditional in her opinion of a woman's role to come with him even with the lure of good coin. She was around two hundred years older than Loki, and thus far the large difference in social status coupled with having first met when their age gap meant a great deal more had cemented their relationship in a platonic state.

Tolfdir was one of Loki's favorite magic instructors. An old High Elf, he scoffed at the stigma Aesir placed on the idea of young men mastering magic and happily provided the young prince with spells and theory. He was constantly hopping from his own home on Alfheim and the guest rooms here in the Royal Palace, often advising Odin on matters affecting the two realms as a pseudo-ambassador despite being of relatively low birth. He was a strict task master and disdained the penchant for celebration and long periods of leisure the Asgardian culture bred among the peerage. Sometimes Loki felt closer to the old man than nearly anyone else, spending whole days in research and study with Tolfdir to uncover some old tidbit of knowledge. The elves generally lived shorter, quieter lives than the Aesir, and Tolfdir was not high enough in the nobility to have his life lengthened through magic ritual to match his Aesir friends. Over their three hundred year friendship, Loki had seen his bright golden hair turn gray and his smooth golden skin wrinkle like tree bark. Tolfdir was now the very image of quiet reflection and hoarding of knowledge that his people expected in their elders. At over four hundred years old, Tolfdir would perhaps live another fifty years, and Loki dreaded the day his dear friend passed.

Alec was a young soldier, but older than Thor. At first glance, he would have fit in with the Warriors Three. He was blond, broad, and an excellent swordsman. Indeed, he was a cherished member of the palace guard, but he was a friend of Loki, Tolfdir, and Brelyna because of his wit. He didn't have a spark of magic that was his own, but he loved to talk about it. It fascinated him, like a foreign language he never mastered but still appreciated the beauty of. Alec was also a musician, spending his off hours with a lute, and had a habit of comparing the flowing magical energies to the flowing notes in a song. The outsider's perspective was sometimes exasperating, but often gave the other three something to think about. He never felt bad about being left behind in a discussion, either, happy to watch three people go about an art that they had mastered and comment occasionally when far out of his depth.

As Loki walked up to the table space was made without fuss or clatter of plates. They had manners, after all, and alcohol did not flow so freely here. This section was located far from the entrance to the Throne Room: beyond the tiered lines of long tables of Honored Warriors, then Wealthy Merchants, and finally Skilled Artisans. The mages' tables were smaller but more plentiful: packed with sorceresses of all ages and sprinkled with older men, scholars, and the odd court clerk. Loki always thought it was weird that old men could study the 'feminine art' of magic when their strength started to give out and they could no longer reliably deal with problems by hitting them in the face with a blunt object. Perhaps that meant intelligence and wisdom were feminine? He'd have to remember that for the next time someone taunted him for being girlish by hiding behind magic tricks. There was potential there.

"How are you, Prince Loki?" Alec greeted, clearly into his cups.

"I am well. Are you alright?" Loki responded. Alec was not normally the type to be so drunk so early.

"He's been an ass," Brelyna supplied, "and got what he deserved."

"Gilda left," Alec confessed before drowning the rest of his sentence in his cup.

"The drama of youth," Tolfdir chuckled.

"Oh, whatever has happened?" Loki asked as he selected a few items for his plate. These tables always held a bit more conservative spread, with many pre-portioned dishes instead of a few giant plates of un-carved boar and impressive towers of roasted potato. It made selecting a wide variety of items easier.

"Gilda saw me speaking with Brelyna and Madge," Alec grumped. "She overreacted and thought I was cheating on her. I just... told the truth."

"You told her you speak to Madge and I nearly every day, and would never consider bedding a sorceress," Brelyna clarified. "Never mind that Gilda fancies herself a sorceress."

"I said I wouldn't bed someone I am charged to guard! It is a point of honor. Were I assigned to elsewhere I would have the same boundaries about that post," Alec snapped.

"That is not the way it sounded," Brelyna snapped back, glaring.

"Gilda fancies herself a sorceress?" Loki asked in a delighted tone, picking out the least hostile tidbit. He'd rather not have his friends at each other's throats tonight. "Since when?"

"Since she decided that Alec only hangs out with those adept at magic," Tolfdir murmured, but the quiet words carried far enough that the other three heard.

"Entirely false," Alec grumbled. "I met _her_ in the market, after all."

"She couldn't reliably conjure a spark," Brelyna stabbed back, still quite riled.

"Now, I'm sure Alec didn't mean to say he'd never considered bedding you, Brelyna," Loki soothed, extracting a shocked squawk from both the Aesir and a chuckle from Tolfdir. "It is just that his code of honor prevents it from being a possibility."

"Much as your code of honor... oh, my mistake Prince Loki, I forgot who I was speaking to!" Alec laughed, but it was an old joke between them. _Much as your code of honor is against using telepathy_ , the old line went since Loki was simply too good at provoking people and had been accused of dabbling in such dark arts often around the time he'd met Alec. They had altered it over the last century to an even more outrageous private joke.

"That's a poor joke to make," Brelyna sighed despite the wide grin on Loki's face. "Especially this week."

"Why?" Alec asked, and Loki hoped he didn't know the answer already.

"Prince Loki is a fine and honorable person, if unconventional in the extreme," Brelyna paused and Loki gave a mock bow, "There are far too many people content to heap insult on him recently, and I'll not hear anything of the sort from a friend even in jest."

"I can take it," Loki scoffed.

"You shouldn't have to," Tolfdir said and leaned forward to switch into a lecture. "If this were Alfheim, no man in power would suffer to hear such insults toward one son in favor of another. I spoke to Odin about it this afternoon. I'm not the only one who considers the talk to be shameful disrespect of his house. Even with all the years I have lived here in Asgard, I can not understand it. They should not need to tear you down to honor Thor. There is plenty to say about Thor that is positive and true. All this talk of 'Princess' Loki the last few weeks should have been stopped, cleanly, before it gained such momentum."

"It is nothing I have not heard before," Loki shrugged. "I am a sorcerer."

"Lady Sif is a warrior," Tolfdir pointed out, "and no one dares insult her so viciously in public. True, there are still a fair few jests in darkened halls, but not openly in front of the court."

"It has gotten bad in the barracks," Alec admitted. "I was asked yesterday if..." The older man trailed off, mumbling and shifting in his chair.

"What were you asked?" Loki kept his voice perfectly calm and mildly curious.

"If you'd ever offered yourself to me," Alec admitted reluctantly. "Since you are a shape changer and actually a woman."

" _Actually_ a woman?" Berlyna voiced the outrage Loki felt.

"Who?" was all Loki said, keeping his mask of calm.

"My commanding officer. I answered with a rude gesture and said he knew better than to spread such nonsense. It didn't exactly land me in his good graces." Loki would be making that man's life quite difficult in short order. There were _limits_ , there had to be. He knew that spell to fill a room with amphibians would come in handy somehow. Its structure was just too interesting to be useless.

"That is exactly what I mean," Tolfdir seethed. "I warned Odin, and this afternoon wasn't the first time, but he pretended he didn't hear. If you are to have any part in ruling this country, as a member of the Council or even as an ambassador, you must be respected. Letting this ridiculous, childish opinion of your magic stand is undermining the future of Asgard."

"Loki, I'm so sorry," Brelyna soothed, mistaking his quiet rage for a sulk. She went to put her arm around him, and he shrugged it off. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Everyone has been thinking it for the whole of the week, and the week previous, and here and there for decades now," Loki said. "I might as well just," and with that he sat up straight and tugged hard at his magic. After a moment of heavy resistance, and a twinge of pain, his form shifted. He had a passing thought that he should train this part of his magic so it wouldn't be so uncomfortable to use. His clothes shifted on his new shape, ill-fitting on his changed body. He had no idea exactly how he looked, as he'd only directed his magic to become a female a few times in the past and all of them in rather dire situations. A quick check revealed softer hair, still short fine black and slick with oil to keep it straight. The formal vest and leather tunic weren't meant for this anatomy at all, and even though his chest was nothing impressive the folds in his tunic developed a decent gap exposing a bit of his breastbone. Alec laughed, but Tolfdir clearly found nothing funny about it. Brelyna chuckled and started messing with his hair.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Brelyna said with a smile, "but I'm jealous. You're prettier than I am." Loki laughed, a higher pitch than he was used to.

"Well," his voice was higher too, "let's hear it all, then. We'll see how they like having their words made true."

"She's right, Loki. If I knew not who you were... You could charm any man here in that body." Loki made a few magical adjustments to his clothes, a simple weaving to keep the wrapped leather tunic from shifting open further and to adjust his belt to his new hips.

"I think I'll stay this way for the feast tonight," he announced. "Look how little they mark me, that no one has yet made any move."

It was true, but a little unfair. Loki had made a subtle entrance and sat down in a subdued class of people prone to introversion already in deep conversations. Few had noticed his entry because he hadn't wanted to be noticed, and he knew it. He was enraged, but kept a smiling (female) face and did nothing to draw attention. If anyone noticed the weird woman wearing a man's leathers they said nothing. The conversation changed to the nature of seidr, the magical essence that lived in all creatures. Not to miss a chance at experimentation, Tolfdir sought to prove that the Aesir insistence that magic was feminine made little sense by bidding Loki perform several small tricks. If magic really were female in nature, it should be easier to cast such spells as a woman and Loki would clumsily overpower them with his new strength. Of course, nothing of the sort happened at all.

"Perhaps it is because I consider myself a man," Loki supposed.

"That is insulting," the voice of Lady Sif interjected.

"Can we help you?" Loki asked, annoyed, "Or do you just want to make nonsensical observations about our conversation?"

"That you choose to dress as a man," Lady Sif started, "is not excused if you want to secure a place normally reserved for men, as you should be proud of yourself as a woman first. " Loki contained his glee, hoping his friends were also schooling their faces.

"You are a warrior, Lady Sif, and often wear your armor to formal functions," Loki baited. She was currently wearing a rather soft gown, and it looked quite fetching if you were into self-righteous bundles of disdain.

"That does not mean I consider myself a man. If you say you consider yourself a man, then that just belittles the struggle of those around you. If you want to be a warrior, and learn to use the daggers at your belt, you need not sacrifice your womanhood." Alec burst into uncontrollable laughter. Loki was most pleased.

"Lady Sif," Brelyna spoke, managing to keep an even tone. "We were actually discussing the many insults Prince Loki has had heaped upon him this last fortnight. It seems that in their eagerness to show how great Thor is, everyone in the palace has been calling Prince Loki out as womanly by comparison, even going so far as calling him Princess. Am I to take it from what you just said that you believe in equality of gender, and by extension that the opposite may also be true: a man could learn magic without sacrificing his manhood?"

"I... yes. I suppose. Loki is also many other things as well, however, and certainly has not given over to wearing dresses," Sif stumbled, bewildered. "Is that why he is not here tonight? Thor asked me to find him, and I know he sometimes checks in with you."

"Prince Loki is here," Alec gasped out before biting his fist to quiet his laughter.

"Lady Sif," Tolfdir interrupted, "Have you heard many such comments about the younger prince recently?"

"Well, yes, it is as you say," Sif blustered as she gestured to Brelyna, "there have been many such comments recently."

"Do you say anything about them?" Loki asked.

"What do you mean?" Sif countered.

"I mean when people insist upon calling Prince Loki a Princess, do you correct them?" Loki asked.

"I..."

"Do you allow others to belittle your friend's brother, your Prince, and concept of gender equality?" Brelyna asked.

"As a warrior who has sworn fealty to the crown, do you allow the house of Odin to be mocked and shamed in your presence?" Tolfdir accused as Sif's mouth soundlessly opened and closed.

"Well, I hadn't..." she finally spit out.

"Do you laugh with them?" Alec asked, all humor gone from him as he glared at the younger warrior. Sif fled the table, and Loki watched her go back to Thor.

"That ought to make her think. Now if only it was a contagious condition," Tolfdir scoffed.

"Working on it," Loki smiled.

"Oh, don't, Loki. It's fine here between us, but please." Tolfdir cautioned.

"Sweet Brelyna, would you dance with me?" Loki asked

"Like that?" she gasped.

"Sounds like a great idea to me," Alec chuckled, leering at them with clear humor. "A pretty pair of birds, it'll have the whole room looking."

"Norns preserve us," Tolfdir sighed. "Please consider what you are suggesting."

"Fine, if you won't dance with me, I'll have to find another lovely lady to scandalize the hall," Loki threatened. When Brelyna wouldn't budge, Loki got up and followed Sif's path toward the warrior's section where the majority of the dancers congregated. He mingled, swaying to the beat of drums and generally ignoring the fact that he was in a female body. The revelry was most raucous near the high tables of warriors where Thor and his friends were seated, naturally, and Sif noticed him rather quickly. Thor rose from the table shortly after, clearly recognizing Loki's clothes and intent on asking the 'strange woman' where his brother was. They were still a distance away, since Thor would have to go around the long table.

"Dance with me," he whispered into the ear of one of the girls trying to catch eyes. "We'll catch the eye of Thor himself. He's coming this way." The redhead agreed instantly, but proved herself smarter than the average dancing bimbo.

"You wear Prince Loki's clothes," she said as they started to dance.

"I'll sleep in his bedroom tonight too," Loki said with a wink.

"He's vain, but not that vain," the redhead answered. "He will be upset you stole his clothes."

"I should hope not, and I didn't steal these."

"You dance like a man."

"Do I?" Loki quipped. This was quite fun, and he was going to utterly humiliate everyone who didn't recognize him before the night was out.

"Where is my brother?" Thor asked them, suddenly at his back. He must have jogged around the table to get there so fast. Loki turned to see Thor flanked by the Warriors Three and Sif, all looking a bit cross.

"Do you really want to know?" Loki asked.

"I have not seen him all day," Thor admitted, worry filling his bright blue eyes. "Is he ill?" Loki immediately recalculated. There was dramatics, and then there was cruelty. Thor was not the problem, and was one of the few that had shown any tendency to restrain the attacks on Loki's character. The lesson would be wasted on him, and Thor's obvious concern would not permit Loki to continue the ruse without explanation.

"Follow me," Loki said, feeling a bit defeated. He might be able to convince Thor to watch the trick without giving Loki away, but he'd lost the ability to shame Fandral as he'd wanted to. Still, there were other good targets. He led them to the balcony, which was quiet as usual. Alec, Tolfdir, and Brelyna had apparently followed and flanked Loki.

"Lady Sif told me of what you said earlier," Thor said, looking around to see if Loki was behind one of the potted plants.

"To be fair, Thor is one of the few people on my side in this," Loki started, addressing his friends.

"If Prince Thor had ever voiced clear displeasure upon hearing his brother called an ergi, the slander would have ebbed," Tolfdir pointed out with authority, using the vile cuss rather than the softer explanations he'd used in the Hall to prove a point. "It has only grown more and more vicious and is now completely out of hand."

"I can handle it," Loki insisted.

"Loki, you are currently shape-shifted into a woman!" Alec shouted. "That is _hilarious_ , but it is not _handling it_."

"Loki?" Thor asked, looking at his brother in astonishment. Sif stammered some form of comment, but it was barely coherent. The Warriors Three just stood dumbly with their mouths hanging open. For a long time, the two groups of friends stood in silence, most of them waiting for the situation to make more sense.

"It's a joke," Loki explained. "Everyone had been calling me a woman so I became one. It's funny because it's so obvious that I'm not a woman, see?" There was another long silence. Maybe it wasn't so obvious. "Just, I'm a shape-shifter and I'm shifting to match the desires of those around me."

"That is not an acceptable course of action," the stern voice of Odin cut through the night. "I will speak to my sons. The rest of you, go, and there will be no further talk about this." The crowd quickly dispersed until only three people stood in the night air. "Change back."

"I..." Loki swallowed thickly. "A moment." Loki eased himself back into his proper skin and adjusted his clothes. It really was harder to do than he thought it should be, and the pain was certainly worth considering. "Better?"

"This ends tonight," Odin declared.

"Father, we are not fighting," Thor pointed out. Odin gave him a dubious eyebrow.

"It is true, father. My quarrel is not with Thor, but with nearly the whole of the rest of the court. Alec told me today that his commanding officer, a lieutenant who supposedly answers to me as a Master of Magic and his Prince, asked him if I had ever shifted into female form to proposition him."

"Then we will deal with that lieutenant," Odin declared.

"If it was one person, I am more than capable of defending my own honor," Loki started.

"This is a bit bigger than that, father," Thor interrupted. "Somehow, poking fun at Loki's manhood has come into fashion."

"If we are to punish everyone who has made such jokes, most of that hall would be flogged," Loki added.

"What would you do, dancing as a woman in the hall, to repair such damage?" Odin asked.

"Prove that it doesn't matter what I look like. I am male, and what talents and skills I have cultivated don't change that. I can change my body temporarily, and it doesn't change my gender. Dancing was only the first step in the plan..."

"That makes no sense. Brother," Thor sighed, once again not letting Loki finish. "If your body is changed then you are changed."

"I am still myself within, am I not? I am still the same person I was born as no matter what shape I have," Loki scoffed.

"No, Loki," Odin declared, banging Gungnir on the floor. "We will end this madness, tonight. Anyone heard breaking their oaths and speaking ill of my house will be punished."

"Yes, father," the two boys chorused. Odin left without further comment, leaving Thor and Loki standing alone on the balcony.

"You became a woman," Thor chuckled. "Only you would think of such madness."

"I had help thinking of it," Loki smiled back. Truly, without the letter, he wouldn't have thought of it so swiftly, but he was certain it would have occurred to him to put proof to the words of others in time.

"I had not known how bad it had gotten for you, but then I see you do a thing like this and know you must have been frustrated beyond reason. It is little wonder you have been avoiding everyone of late."

"I avoid people one week and seek constant companionship the next," Loki scoffed. "It is nothing new or noteworthy, so I forgive you for not noticing."

"You are a fickle thing," Thor agreed, gripping the base of Loki's neck in a gesture of brotherly love born out of roughhousing so long ago the details eluded memory. "The ever-changing seasons of your moods are baffling, but still you are my brother." The honest affection warmed Loki.

"I should change again, so that I can blame a maiden's nature for my blush," Loki joked.

"Don't," Thor said, letting go only to slap at Loki's arm in rebuke. It was a gentle touch, for once. Thor must think Loki truly fragile right now. Loki wasn't sure if Thor was right. "I'll not hear such a comment, even from you."

"I am glad, and grateful for my friends as well. Alec has endured some strife on my behalf over this."

"Alec is... the guardsman?" Thor asked.

"He is the head guardsman in charge of defending the mage's laboratories, and one of my closest friends," Loki explained, exasperated that Thor didn't know.

"He guards the sorceresses?" Thor confirmed, a slow grin spreading on his face.

"He guards their tools. Honestly, he lost his lady friend today for just the thoughts you have in your head, except such things were only in Gilda's mind. Alec is... too much a gentleman to ever do such a thing." Loki turned to look out at the city. It seemed like Thor was about to ask Loki to bring his friends over to his table to feast together. "He hates Fandral, you know, only partially because they disagree on what makes a gentleman."

"I didn't know," Thor replied. "I think that perhaps Fandral is not my favorite person this evening, either."

"A newfound respect for the ladies of the court?" Loki scoffed, "Thor, you bed them in pairs."

"I need to stop that, soon," Thor shocked Loki by saying. "Mother warned me that when I am crowned I will need to start acting in a way that would make me appear better suited to become a husband and king. That is not what I meant, however. I know much of the venom spilled on you of late has its source in Fandral's jests."

"I had thought I would attract him in a woman's body, but acting as a man. When Sif so thoroughly mistook me for a lady I thought I could do it, and then the dancers said my movements were those of a man's and I was sure. If I spoke to him, acting just as I always have, just as any man would with no real flirtation..." Loki explained, deciding that if he couldn't pull off his prank he could at least describe it and see Thor's reaction.

"That would have been a humiliating joke for him," Thor said, but seemed disappointed he didn't get to see it rather than indignant on his friend's behalf. "You would have revealed yourself in the Hall?"

"I would have caused a riot," Loki chuckled. "You know I could have leveraged the perfect moment. A glorious reveal and Fandral would have questions about his sexuality fielded at him for a month at least."

"Would it not have also humiliated you?" Thor asked.

"No worse could be said of me on that front, and I don't think it would have that effect anyway. Not after the dressing down I would have given, to the whole of the assembled hall with an amplified voice, if I had gotten my way."

"I see why father stepped in, but I find myself also wishing he hadn't," Thor laughed deeply, and Loki joined him. They talked for a while, servants providing them with drinks and snacks for an hour or so before they went back to the party. It was a good little plan, and it unraveled because of Loki's recent distress. If he had waited, enduring constant humiliation all the while, he would not have been watched so closely and intercepted so rapidly. Odin would have been keeping tabs on Loki after his 'breakdown' the other night at Frigga's behest if not his own will, and it was entirely possible he was using Heimdall to help him with the task. That was something to consider, given that he most certainly did not want the letter shared.

Had the letter arrived a month from now, Loki would likely have pulled off this stunt flawlessly. The instructions for becoming a better lover would have also made more sense and been less shocking. This was more proof in his mind that he'd received the package earlier than planned.


	3. A Wild Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feasting and celebrating is done at the drop of a hat in Asgard, so with something serious to celebrate the party just doesn't end!

The celebratory atmosphere didn't abate quickly, not that anyone expected it to. The announcement of the impending coronation had raised people's spirits and the usual week-long celebrations of Thor's name day stretched beyond May Eve and through Summerfinding. Usually, a few people would have dropped off, intent on getting back to business or at least preparing for the impending religious holiday, but the Hall was still filled to the brim with revelers as the decorations were swapped over. Tolfdir grumbled about the sloth, though even with his personal troubles Loki couldn't quite bring himself to agree. A good party was a good party after all, and between song and story he could keep those around him too entertained to bring up the slander.

Loki had thought the rumor mill would eventually latch on to the next thing, and even went out of his way to provide sordid tales he'd heard from Sven and the other servants. Unfortunately, the aborted plan to get some respect back and stop the slander against him had backfired spectacularly. If he'd only been allowed to finish the trick... but Father would never allow it now, and being seen as an apparently lovely woman without the payoff at the end had just poured fuel on the fire. Loki had sought to re-establish some normalcy as the calendar rolled along from season to season, observing the court as usual and attending his studies. There were fewer petitioners than usual, as the whole realm was preoccupied with the announcement of Odin's chosen heir.  There were a few scraps of inter-realm politics, all so routine as to be mind-numbing, and the odd incident of one merchant sleeping with an artisan's wife sparking a public brawl or the like that needed attending to. The treasury clerks were the only group with real work being done, given that every celebration seemed to be extended and intensified.

With every celebration lasting a few days longer than usual, the months flew by quickly. Even as Loki's own name day came and snow blanketed the realm, people were still buzzing with speculation over Thor's future rule. While he did spend a lot of time enjoying the endless party, the message he'd been sent urged him not to neglect his martial and magical training. He alternated between spending the afternoon hours working in the library and putting himself on display at the training grounds doing his usual solo exercises. Thor was the center of everyone's attention and almost exclusively engaged in revelry and celebratory hunting trips. This allowed Loki time to train while not in Thor's shadow, and people viewed Loki pushing himself on the training grounds as fitting. The rumors that came back to Loki told him that his own behavior was seen as 'inspired by Thor's best qualities.' The speculation over the realm's future did include Loki from time to time, and generally speaking whenever they weren't supposing he'd run off in a dress to wed a man they were talking about how seriously the young prince had taken the news that his brother would be king. His studiousness and more frequent appearance on the training grounds bent rumor more favorably for him, provided the gossips in the court were not too busy gushing over Thor.

There were few people in either place on feast days, though the sorceresses were always happy to talk with him when they crossed paths in the library, and a few of them started appearing on the sidelines when he was training. It occurred to Loki that he could be filling his bed at night more often if he decided to take their friendliness as flirtation, but he was savvy enough not to shit where he worked. He didn't need anyone in the mage's wing upset with him. Maybe if he was looking for something long term he would go there, and until then he'd keep his reputation as a gentleman pristine in that quarter. Even now, with marriage a whimsical thought hovering vaguely in his future, he could see that there were several sorceresses with the proper qualities to be wife to a prince. To waste that resource for a simple dalliance so early in the game seemed well beneath the level of his own intelligence, and in any case, Thor would have first pick assuming that he was as disinterested in Lady Sif as he appeared to be.

As Thor's Name Day came around again, so did the jokes at Loki's expense. His experimentations and preoccupations had cut down on the number of dancing girls he'd bothered to take to bed and the rumors that his disinterest stemmed from a preference for men resurfaced. The third day of Thor's Name Day celebrations turned out to be the worst example of such disrespect he'd ever encountered. He'd been caught in the hallway coming back from the training grounds by a court clerk named Samson. The man was thin and spidery, and not well liked at all despite being rich enough to buy friends. He had very short brown hair and watery blue eyes, and his lack of a wife at about 3,550 years old was often a point of gossip.

"Prince Loki," he had said in a tense voice from within an alcove behind a statue. It was the least subtle 'I have something private to say to you' invitation the young prince had ever seen. Secrets were best said in a calm voice in a room with the blare of music drowning out the words to all but the intended listener. Being dramatic or nervous about it just made it more obvious.

"Something I can help you with?" Loki asked, stepping into the alcove only after sweeping it with his magic for traps.

"I had wondered. Well, it is hard not to, really. You are a handsome enough young man, but you do not often leave the hall with women hanging off your arms," Samson began.

"Do you have a point?" Loki bit out with a sizzling glare.

"I... I am not adverse to... Oh, I've not done this with someone like you. You are hard to read, you know. I prefer things to be more obvious from the beginning, but I wonder that you don't know the way of it."

"The way of what?" Loki asked, intrigued. He allowed some of his interest to show in his words and body but kept his distance.

"How men like us communicate. There are signs, and I suppose you used what you could to make yourself known. I think, perhaps, you have never had a conversation like this?"

"If you mean a conversation full of vague hints of blackmail and endless stalling then, yes, I am familiar with court politics," Loki snapped, but kept his posture open and inviting. He was sure he knew what this was about, but would not act until it was clearly stated. This could restore his good name if handled with the correct amount of outrage.

"Bluntly, then, if that is how you want it. I prefer to lie with men, as a woman. I like to be made a woman. If I do not interest you, I can show you the meeting places where..." Samson stopped talking with a gasp as a dagger pinned the leg of his trousers to the wall behind him.

"I should cut your balls off," Loki snarled. "I am not argr."

"Of course not," Samson babbled. "Of course, if I liked women I'd have women. I don't want a woman, I want a man like you."

"You lust after me, and think I will thank you for it?" Loki screeched, appalled. He cast darts at the older man, pinning him more fully to the wall around the shoulders and down his arms. Given the power he used, the conjured darts would last a day before dissolving. He barely listened to the apologies being made. Sliding forward, he looked the terrified man in the eyes as he reached down to retrieve his dagger - a gift from one of his tutors he would not leave behind - and froze a moment when he felt something brush his hand. He didn't allow his emotions to show on his face. He just withdrew the dagger swiftly, uncaring of what he might have caught on the blade.

Loki left Samson sobbing in pain, pinned to the wall, with the words 'Ergi Pedophile' magicked onto the wall next to him. The guards would sort him out when the next patrol came through and the whole of the city would be gossiping about it by dawn.

Loki skipped the feast and returned to his own rooms, locking his apartment doors tightly. Feeling the need to distract himself, he pulled out the journal he'd been keeping on his progress with the strange package over the last year. He had kept up with the Yoga, stretching himself a little in the morning and listening to the music in spare moments, but he considered those to be ancillary to his progress. The letter had clearly asked him to do three things that would help him in his future, and he classified his efforts as interesting yet incomplete.

His first task was to learn how to masturbate as a woman. He'd taken a woman's shape at night a few times to take care of that. The transition was actually quite difficult and painful without the extreme pressure of a life or death situation to distract him, and a bit of hard internal examination revealed tiny little hooks in his magic that were not of his own make. They tugged at him when he shifted into a woman's form and tore at him when he attempted anything more exotic. His magic had grown around them, building a metaphysical callus around the sharp points over years. Originally he imagined the shape of the spell would have made returning to his usual form easier, but over time his natural efforts to dull the blades made them into humps he had to push his magic over in either direction. It was the work of two weeks to dig them out, and thereafter the change was smoother, but disappointingly tiring and not quite pain-free.

When he'd settled into his bed a few days later he'd been so jittery about the whole situation that he had barely looked at his own body during the first attempt, fumbling around like a complete idiot. The whole procedure had been uncomfortable and he'd given up. Still, once the transformation was complete he'd felt natural enough, and he was undeterred.

He chalked it up to not having the correct set of instincts to go with the body, snuck a moment or three with some books in a section normally reserved for young girls, and used a quick copy spell to make a few temporary duplicates he could read in privacy before trying again. They were surprisingly helpful, though they utterly murdered his pride. He had known he wasn't the most impressive lover. It seemed like he'd always been slower to develop physically than his peers, and despite the dancing girls' words and he knew he was still a bit more boy than man when it came to certain activities. He could tell when someone was lying to him after all, but even so, he hadn't realized how little he knew about female anatomy. He'd thought himself properly educated about the creation of children, at least, and even that knowledge turned out to be rudimentary and overly simplified. The only concession made to his masculinity and age during his healer's training had been an excusal from midwifery, and he actually regretted that now. It was shaming, and he was now certain that his romantic troubles included rumors that he was a spoiled brat that had selfishly used the ladies he seduced for pleasure with no thought of their own. That didn't sit well with him at all, but the letter did offer a remedy for that budding bad reputation.

On the second attempt of this experiment, he'd been much calmer from the beginning and decided to do a few Yoga poses to learn his alternate shape better. He decided that he was quite comfortable in either shape when he was just walking around or doing light exercise in his chambers. The extra weight in the front while he exercised quickly taught him why even small-chested women wore supportive undergarments, and he used a scarf and a bit of magic to improvise. He'd looked himself over carefully and realized that he could not factually change the color of his hair or the shape of his chest. He could change genders, but it left him as a female version of himself. Asking that innate magic to alter any small part of his shape earned him a confused shrug of an echo, which was telling.

Apparently, Loki wasn't a natural shape-shifter after all. He was a changeling. There was a significant difference: a changeling could alter what they were wholesale, but not who they were in detail using a passive ability; shape-shifters could change their outward appearance fluidly and held it with active concentration. Loki could be a woman or a man or even a different species completely and at will, but he'd always look like himself in a fundamental way. A shape-shifter would have been able to make modifications to a shape, but would revert to their natural state quickly if the spell was disturbed in some way. Changeling magic was a more complete magic in that regard, changing to the bone rather than just along the surface, so he wasn't quite disappointed. He had mastered illusions and could use them for disguise freely, so the loss of another means for disguise didn't sting. If anything, it made him more eager to master the talent since it was nearly impossible to detect changeling magic except during the transition itself.

It also explained why the transition felt so natural while still requiring so much effort, he was fully becoming something rather than just wearing a false skin. He'd become a horse before on several occasions where long distances and low supplies bore out the need for swift movement and an ability to eat whatever vegetation was on hand. He'd put down the fact that he always became the same gangly foal as due to a lack of training, but now he knew that he'd always be the same horse and should he fall asleep in that form he would not revert. He rather wished he'd known that before, as it would have come in handy. He spent the night in his female skin as a final test and awoke the same as when he'd first laid down, as solid a proof of his nature as any deep magical examination. He wished he hadn't been put off the study of this natural talent by risks of possible deformation, and the few times he'd used it had always been in such high-pressure life and death situations that he hadn't had the chance to appreciate it properly. Something in the remains of the binding geas hummed while he was examining himself, but he put that worry away for later.

Loki should probably be more worried about how few changes were needed to make his slender frame into that of a woman's, or how he was not at all disturbed by the sight of himself in the mirror. He'd been horribly upset by the whole of the palace calling him unmanly, but when he actually changed his form to that of a lady's he was perfectly alright with looking at himself and easily recognized the face as his own. He even liked the way he looked, slender and reasonably curved for his age with slightly softer features. Perhaps it was the tone of insult and mockery and not the content of the words that he reacted to so strongly. He tried to bury that thought because if true it meant that they were right about him.

Loki considered his first task a success, as he now had gained a fair amount of knowledge both about female anatomy and his own natural abilities. He hadn't managed to fully implement the final stage of the suggested plan to boost the reputation of his talents in bed this year, as he wanted to practice a bit and make sure he had perfected the techniques properly before putting himself 'on display' for one of the louder gossips. It was quite interesting that the simplest instructions given in the letter had led to such a complex discovery. The cascade had given him an idea that bothered him horribly, but he pushed that aside to focus his thoughts on his completed goals for the moment.

His second task had been to re-evaluate how he measured himself against Thor. The trick with the table was a test of that, to some extent. Was Loki's magic stronger than Thor's muscles? It wasn't a fair test. Magical power couldn't be measured that way, not really. It was about finesse and knowledge as much as brute force. The same could be said about his daggers or talent with a bow against Thor's hammer or ax. His attacks relied on speed and strategy more than power, but Loki knew that already. He'd always known he would fall short of Thor in raw physical power, as much as it was nearly impossible to give up trying. He had no clue about how to proceed down that path because he didn't think he was meant to stop measuring himself against his brother completely. He would have to keep his eye out for possible double meanings in that section of the letter.

Third, to do things personally. His initial response to that had been bewilderment, as he was a perfectionist and liked doing things for himself already. Indeed, he preferred to go the market himself from time to time to shop for certain things he required rather than always telling servants to fetch for him. Loki enjoyed being independent and while he was royalty, he certainly was not slothful. Then he started to keep notes about such things in his journal and as he went through the year he realized just how much was done for him. He was a prince, and a great number of chores and simple tasks were done for him without him having to ask. All his food was prepared for him unless he was out camping, even though he knew perfectly well how to cook and had a small kitchen in his apartment where he could retrieve or prepare his own snacks. His dirty clothes disappeared in the morning and reappeared the next day, and he did wear quite a few garments. He didn't think he expected himself to do anything about that sort of housekeeping, but there was more. The librarians practically danced around him, listening for even the slightest word before darting off to find him more material. He'd never properly addressed how much they helped him with his research! Often he was so engrossed in his thoughts that the new books piling up on the edge of the desk escaped his notice until he started reading them, not to mention the crystallized honey or cups of peppermint tea.

Loki cast spells all over his room; there were housekeeping spells his mother had taught him as ways to practice his magic safely when he was very small that he hadn't used in centuries. There was no reason to stop using them beyond laziness, and even at his skill level he could benefit from simultaneously casting many simple spells at once or in a complicated cascade. He also worked to tend his own armor when his other obligations allowed, eventually beginning to tinker with the enchantments out of boredom as he went. In the library, he started to shelve books himself and actually caused one of the librarians to weep thinking they had somehow offended their most common male visitor. That gave him pause, and the nearly all-female library staff was rapidly re-evaluated in his mind as friends. By and large, they didn't have to do these things for him. They wanted to, and they gave him sweet smiles while they did it. It wasn't as if they were commoners or indentured servants, just lower level members of the peerage or higher level daughters of the artisan class.

The Prince apologized for distressing Lady Dagny and made it clear that he was making a point to himself that he could function independently. She brightened after that, and before he cleaned up his research on travel magic he made a point to talk to each of the library staff and ask them not to be quite so quiet about bringing him things. It was not that he never noticed them, and in fact he knew all their names and a great deal about them personally, which he demonstrated in his conversations. He just wanted to know who was handing him what books from now on, so he could properly thank them. The young girls tittered and the older women seemed pleased. That informed him of who was bringing him research materials and who was bringing him sweets. None of them thought it was at all odd that he was often too focused to notice their comings and goings without being spoken to in the process, something that Loki himself would have found insulting if it happened to him. Most of their guests didn't want the interruption, and so the librarians didn't expect an acknowledgment from the researchers that used their services. He may well regret his request eventually, but in the short term he'd get to know them all a bit better.

The rest of the letter was a mess of indecipherable babbling. Loki spent some time trying to make heads or tails of it again and only gave up when the distant sound of Thor bringing some girl back to his apartment called his attention to the late hour. He did hug his mother more often, and that never failed to improve his mood. As far as he had been able to discern from the tax and army records, there was no Phillip Coulson in all of Asgard. Nor was there a Coul with a wife of age to bear a son. The convergence was a metaphysical anomaly caused by Yggdrasil that had never been properly studied, and therefore the books about it were all worthless mysticism. It did something to the pathways between worlds, opening them wide so that unwary people fell through them by accident. It seemed easy enough to guard against such a thing harming his mother provided he remained nearby. All in all, when he put the journal away he classified his efforts to deal with the ominous prophecy as interesting yet incomplete.

The next morning as he went through his normal routine, the idea that had been nagging at Loki as he reviewed his progress popped into his mind again and he failed to adequately distract himself this time. The way following the instructions in the letter caused him to notice things he never had before and the complicated way the simple instructions cascaded into larger and larger discoveries gave way to the theory that had been bothering him for the last few weeks. Given that the letter instructed him to hone both his magical and physical skills: If the book was to help train his body, was the music to help train his magic? Centuries ago, when he was learning to call his magic up on demand, his first instruction in using his power was to make lights flash in time with a bell. It was stupidly simple, and he'd progressed past that level so early he didn't actually remember those lessons. He saw very young girls doing the drill from time to time in the gardens. The clear sound of the bell was interpreted by the mind and expressed as a light - some cast a point of white light while others cast it with shape or color. These were their first sparks of magic, less a proper spell and more a simple expression of their seidr's existence. It was an instinctive interpretation of the sound and gave some insight into the personality of the student. The wild music would be a challenge to follow, and who could say what the shape would be if he managed it?

It was unshaped magic, though, and that was a danger. To call up magic without direction was the first thing everyone learning the craft was told not to do. It was best to have a clear focus and purpose for every spell, as even subconscious desires could influence the outcomes. Just pushing and hoping might work in a jam, but it rarely ended up with the kind of spell the caster was hoping for. If he did this it could easily get out of hand, and might even kill him.

Did that count as wishing himself dead? He wanted to do this, badly, and the chances of grievous bodily harm were high. Well, it was his day with Mother today, anyway. He'd get a hug at some point. It's not like it mattered if he was hurt so long as... No, no, that definitely counted as wishing harm on himself, even if he wasn't exactly wishing for death.

Loki got up from the floor where he'd been trying to balance on his hands in a fetal position, something the book called bakasana. He'd actually skipped breakfast today, not wanting or needing to deal with the fallout from Samson after the report Sven gave him about the kitchen gossip, and he had heard one of his servants dart in and out of his front room some time ago. With a noticeable amount of discomfort, he reverted to his normal shape noting absently the subtle changes in his muscles. Sure enough, there was a covered dish on his desk in the front room of his apartment. He picked at his breakfast lightly, his apatite still absent. Giving up on the plate he pulled on his boots and a vest and went to the garden to meet his mother.

 

\----------------------------

The Queen was waiting in the terraced garden that abutted the royal living quarters as usual. The garden was a vibrant and well-kept place only a short hallway from the main entrance to Loki's chambers, though not as impressive as the more public ones on lower levels. Mother's golden hair shone in the late morning light, as did the butter colored dress she wore. Loki greeted her with a broad smile and a hug, fulfilling his promise to himself.

"You are certainly affectionate lately," she giggled, giving him a tight squeeze. "Not that I am complaining."

"You act like I never hug you," Loki smiled back at his mother. It really did help him feel better. Maybe he should just hug her as his usual greeting, formality in public be damned. Her joy was infectious. Mother led him down a path between the many trellises and high ferns. The atmosphere of secluded peace was carefully constructed here.

"You are usually far less expressive. I would think you'd be even less so after what was found in the hallway last night," Mother said calmly.

"Perhaps," Loki mused.

"Samson is filth," Mother scoffed, "he always has been. He has never been anything other than a greedy, lonely thing with not an ounce of honor."

"Perhaps I want to put it out of mind," Loki sighed.

"There will be something official, Loki. There has to be given the implications," she reminded him.

"He propositioned me, I am only just of age for such a thing, and he is old enough to be my father. I don't know what else can be said about the subject." Loki sat down on one of the many benches spread through the garden. This one gave a lovely view of one of the fountains and was surrounded in powerfully aromatic honeysuckles. Mother hovered next to him, testing how open to affection he was by sliding a hand onto his shoulder. He didn't know why she was so hesitant, it wasn't like he'd confuse her for the likes of Samson.

"He didn't touch you, then?" she asked with some relief.

"No, I didn't let him get that close," the prince assured her. "Not that I doubt he would have tried given the chance."

"Oh, good," she sighed in relief, sitting down on the polished garden bench next to Loki. "I thought the worst when I heard, and then your door was locked tightly last night."

"I didn't hear you knocking," Loki assured quickly. He'd have to check his perimeter spells as well.

"You had all of your wards up, so I left you in peace," she explained.

"I would have opened the door for you, Mother," Loki assured.

"Perhaps," she countered with a smile.

"I think I'll start packing today," Loki thought aloud, his voice soft and wistful. "I know I will miss the bulk of the festivities, but I don't want to delay my yearly trip this time."

"Whyever not?" Mother asked. She slid her hand down to loop under his arm, linking them together at the elbow.

"There will undoubtedly be some other spectacle at the feasts that will catch everyone's attention, and this ugly business will fade from memory quickly. The gossip favors me enough already that I won't need to monitor it. It will be best if I am not around to remind people of what happened, and beyond that this trip is important," Loki argued.

"Important enough to leave before May Eve? That is something, though you were barely gone for a week last year. Are you going to tell me about this trip?" his mother asked demurely. He usually didn't tell anyone other than Queen Frigga what his plans were when he went out 'on a walk' for a week or four in the early summer. Even so, he didn't always tell her his plans directly, and he was prone to changing them on a whim even when he had declared them. She knew that and supported him where most everyone else thought he was being mean by not trusting them with his plans. There was a difference between being secretive and being impulsive, and these trips were always in the latter category.

"I am a Journeyman Healer, but due to my age and masculinity there was one part of my training I was allowed to skip. At the time, it was a relief. I was too young to think much about looking at a woman's body, and not yet accustomed to the sight of blood, but I came across a few facts recently that I felt... upset that I did not already know," Loki admitted.

"You want to undertake midwife training?" her voice squeaked with shock, her smile muddied by his admission that he was upset by something.

"I thought I knew enough about the creation of children. I did not," he shrugged and looked at the fountain. "I didn't even have the proper names correct for all the organs involved." He glanced away from the fountain and saw a troubled frown on his mother's face before schooling himself and looking back at the gracefully falling water. "I think father must have skipped over a few items when it was time to talk to me about such things. As a result, I have been unintentionally unkind in certain delicate areas. People would brush such things off if they came from some other young warrior, but from someone well known to be educated in the way I am it must seem cruel. Besides, it is a hole in my education that I do not need to have. Even if I never deliver a child, I could at least have a full and proper understanding of how such things come to pass."

"I'm going to have to have a talk with your father," she sighed. "Dare I ask what it was that you didn't know?" Loki blushed furiously and then forced back the illusion he automatically used to cover it. He shrugged and shifted into the form of a woman.

"Something I noticed," Loki mumbled vaguely, "that was terribly obvious when I spent several hours like this outside of a life threatening situation."

"I suppose running from Lorelei was a bit distracting," Mother allowed. Loki felt an odd twisting in his lower gut and fidgeted a little. Surely, he hadn't made himself fragile; he certainly wasn't disturbed that much by thoughts of a criminal rotting in the dungeon while male. The popular idea that women were inherently weaker emotionally didn't mesh with his observations of those around him, and so had been discarded years ago.

"Do I...?" Loki cut off the question before he could make a fool of himself - herself? - No, that way lay madness. He was accustomed to male pronouns and he wasn't going to change that for the sake of an hour or two's inaccuracy. "On a related topic, I find it odd that I have been labeled incorrectly as a shape-shifter when I am in fact a changeling."

"I hadn't known it was incorrect," Mother assured him, her voice soft and concerned. "I would not have allowed the mistake to stand otherwise. As dangerous as it can be for a young child to play around with shifting magic, it is much safer for a changeling to do so. You could have had more instruction." Loki's stomach twisted again and he huffed. He wanted to have this conversation a certain way, and a disturbance in his digestion was not going to ruin his plans.

"Do I look very odd?" he asked, the question flying out of him in spite of his plans.

"You look like my child in distress, and I worry over you," she cooed at him. "One of the dangers in teaching a young shifter too early is the risk that they will lose their sense of identity. Seeing as you are currently sitting next to me as my daughter, I have to wonder if delaying the process too far can have a similar effect on changelings."

"Wouldn't it have been simpler, though?" he whispered. "I can't do it now for a thousand reasons, and I don't think I want to, not truly. Still, when I was very small it could have been done. When I was too small and thin to use the equipment and Tyr threw me off the training grounds despite being old enough to begin learning the way of a warrior; could I not have simply changed myself into a girl, returned to the library to study magic, and been happy?"

"Would you have been happy, though? You wanted so much to learn to fight like your brother. You talked about nothing else for weeks at a time," Mother reminded him. "I don't think giving up something you wanted so badly would have sat well with you. Besides, can you imagine yourself wrapped in finery, twittering gossip and looking to attract the attentions of a noble man?"

Loki took the time to fully process the image, rather than barking out a defensive 'no' as he was expected to. He closed his eyes and thought of the noble men in the foreign courts of Vanaheim and Alfheim, because he knew the ones in their own court rather too well to be objective. He thought of himself, in the current shape he wore, with velvet and silk draped delicately around him. Could he have been a beautiful sorceress commanding respect through magical skill and artistry?

"Loki?" Mother's hesitant voice interrupted his thoughts and he opened his eyes to see intense concern.

"I dress rather finely already," Loki evaded. He was currently wearing a pair of light cream trousers that he normally didn't like, but were stretchy where he needed them to be in order to easily accommodate both Yoga and changing his form. Over that was an ornate tunic in emerald and brown with golden leaves embroidered all over it and a similar embossed leather vest, both of which hung down to mid-thigh. "I have also always loved magic ever since I made my first sparks." His mother just leaned against his side, clearly not having expected anything more than a knee-jerk reaction. "If I had not been told my whole life how a man should act and to follow that rigid path, for all that I have deviated quite wildly from it in my pursuit of knowledge, would I have the same defensive reaction to reject such thoughts? If I had been raised as a princess, and earned my mastery of blades as a rebellion against that path, would I be hailed and honored as Lady Sif is rather than derided for my deviant behavior as a Sorcerer?"

"You do have a gut reaction against such thoughts, though," she said, though it came out unsteady. "You are my son."

"Is that only because I was raised to be, or because I am? I am a changeling, so in a purely technical sense I have no physical gender. I can change myself at will to be anything. It is a matter of mindset and choice."

"If you were to be a girl, you would have been one," Mother assured him, stiff with worry. "You would have taken and kept that shape."

"Not if I was under a binding that restricted my ability," he countered. "I finally dug out the hooks a couple nights ago. They would have been quite painful when fresh, I think, and were pointed such that male Aesir was the preferred shape."

"Norns help that man if he doesn't have a good explanation for that," Mother bit out sternly.

"Did I change a lot when I was small?" Loki asked. He fidgeted in his seat again, a nasty knot in his lower gut bothering him badly. A casual spell illuminated no toxins in his system and no abnormalities in his immune system. Odd.

"I wouldn't say so, no. Before you could run properly you quite liked being a puppy, since you could keep up with Thor with four legs better than two. We didn't encourage that, of course, and I made sure you knew that you needed to be a person. I don't think I intentionally did anything to prefer a gender, but when I first knew you it was as my son and that is how I thought of you. It was rare for you to be separated from Thor for any length of time, but when it was just the two of us I would wonder sometimes if your face looked softer. At that age, such things are much harder to notice outside of bath time. You did swap genders from time to time when it was noticeable, and I didn't want to point it out to you in case you took the wrong meaning from it. I didn't want you to grow up with wrong-headed ideas about the worth of women, and I'm quite proud that you are well-mannered in that way, so I regret nothing of it." They sat for a moment as his mother thought back to his infancy. With their long lives, old memories could take a moment to resurface.

"I was more concerned with preferring a species at the time, if I am honest," she teased. "It wasn't a common occurrence, and I usually needed only to ask you to be yourself for you to change back. That was what I'd say to you: Loki, I need you to be Loki now. You'd just change back and give me a little look to say you knew you'd been misbehaving and weren't properly sorry. You weren't properly in trouble, either, and I'd reward you with a little cuddle or kiss for changing back no matter what gender I suspected you were. I thought that lesson would come a bit later, and waited for whenever you asked me about why some people were shaped one way and others were not. Or possibly you would have asked where your extra pieces sometimes went, and I steeled myself for your insatiable curiosity when that came. Sometimes, I would think you had changed species just so I'd pick you up, and I worried a bit over that. You stopped changing before I did anything about it, and I figured you'd lost some interest in the cuddles and kisses like most boys do about that age."

"When did I stop changing so much?"

"It would have been," Mother trailed off in thought. "You could talk well, but you hadn't let most of the palace in on that little secret. You were so terribly shy back then." She sighed as she bathed in happy memories. Loki pulled his arm out from under hers so he could wrap it around his mother's back in a half-hug. "You weren't yet being formally educated, but you did mimic my spell work well enough to make your own night lights. I remember, because one time you'd made yourself into a glow worm and when you blinked all the little sparks you'd set floating on the ceiling blinked with you."

"You thought I would have tired of that before I discovered the library?" Loki giggled.

"I swear you discovered the library before you could walk," she laughed. "You were always begging for me to read you books, even ones without pictures. You would have been... at least a hundred, but no more than a hundred and twenty. No! It was... the last time you changed just for the fun of it was just after Thor's three-hundredth name day celebration. I remember it clearly now. Thor was so excited to start learning about hunting, and you became a rabbit thinking he'd like to play when he got back from his lessons. You had sleek black fur with bright red eyes...." She trailed off. "Bright red eyes. During the 'hunt' you hid under a table and your fur blended in so well all we could see was the eyes. Thor actually cried, he was so scared."

"I scared Thor by being a rabbit?" Loki laughed deeply. After a moment he wondered aloud. "Why were my eyes red?"

"Rabbits can have a number of deferent eye colors, but they can't have green eyes the like of yours naturally. They went red instead of blue by chance," Mother explained. "I had to look that up for the two of you at the time, because Thor thought you did it on purpose and I you knew you didn't."

"After that, I didn't change as much," Loki supposed. That was very young indeed, and it was little wonder he couldn't remember it. His earliest memories were from around two hundred, a good five decades after that incident.

"After Thor ran crying to Odin that there was a Jotun hiding in the nursery, which is what he thought you were, you stopped changing for fun. I knew he'd scolded you about your behavior, but I thought it was only that. Now that I think of it, I don't think I saw you change at all since then until you had grown." There was a deep line between her eyebrows and a storm brewing in her blue eyes.

"I was a rabbit," Loki argued, sounding much too young with his feminine voice and petulant tone. Frigga chuckled a little at the echo of memory.

"Yes, and you were an adorable little rabbit," she assured him. "I made you show Odin, so he wouldn't be cross, and to explain to Thor that it was a mistake. I thought you had been forgiven after that, as no harm was intended."

"Instead he put a binding on me to make changing my form unpleasant," Loki confirmed, "when I was not out of control, and understood well enough to be capable of changing on your command."

"I am going to have words with him," she promised. "Would you like to be there?"

"No, I think I'll leave this up to you," Loki sighed. "I'm sure you can be properly cruel to him after leaving a binding spell on me from the time I was one-hundred-and-forty-seven to dig into my magic and callus over. If I hadn't developed a tolerance, I might not have survived some of the more desperate situations I've been in."

"One does not simply leave an enchantment on a child and consider the matter closed," Mother snapped. "Such a thing can have deadly complications, and never mind how you used this ability in times of crisis. I had your behavior well in hand and told him so. It was not his place to overrun me in the nursery, and certainly not acceptable to do such a thing without telling me. That he simply left it there, even if it was simple forgetfulness..." she trailed off, shaking her head.

"He didn't tell you because you would have stopped him or reversed it," Loki supposed.

"I would have been right to," she insisted. "Is that what this is really about, then?"

"I do wonder what it would have been like to have grown up a changeling, and by that, I mean with the fact known to the public. Perhaps the rumors about me would be stronger, but perhaps they wouldn't be. It could be that being treated as half one gender and half the other would be normal for me, and no one would mark it," Loki wondered aloud. "I am called fickle and quixotic as I am, and maybe in that other life my changeling nature could have explained the whole of the matter."

"Would you like to live that way now? If you could do it without the additional repercussions, of course," Mother asked him gently. This was a good portion of why he spent so many Sundays with his mother. Mother's skill was in asking the right questions, and she encouraged him to think aloud as much as possible. That helped him with untangling knots of thought that would otherwise bother him for days. She didn't expect him to give an answer right away, but to meander around sideways and in loops until he found one.

"If I could ignore all the inter- and intra- realm politics?" Loki asked, and received a nod. "I like the company of women quite a bit, if you haven't noticed, and I am quite certain that I like being a man on those terms. I find it odd that I do not have a visceral reaction to viewing this body naked in a mirror, as I think I should given the natural way I think of having a certain private part of myself cut off, for lack of more delicate phrasing. At the same time I do feel that way about the binding I was under. A part of my anatomy was taken away, an intrinsic part that helped define my identity," Loki babbled. "On an unrelated note, can we retire to your chambers? I'm terribly thirsty this morning."

Queen Frigga was the very embodiment of the proper host and loving mother, so they were up and walking through the garden almost before he'd finished his request. The cramped knot in his gut abated slightly as they walked to the other side of the garden. Wide glass doors welcomed them into a comfortable anteroom with a bench in case of rain for removing muddy boots. They had just swished through it and into her chambers when an ocean of shame poured onto Loki's head.

He'd wet himself. He'd wet himself! He was nine-hundred-and-forty-eight years old, for Norn's sake. He spit out a few fumbling words of apology and raced towards the small water closet that was closest. He pulled his trousers down to spell himself clean, only to reveal a red instead of yellow stain. His mother caught up to him, concerned at his sudden exit. When he did not answer she came in to see him staring dumbly at the pile of fabric tangled at his ankles as a drip of blood made its way down the inside of his leg.

"Oh, Loki," she gasped, then grabbed a washcloth and poured a little water over it. "I'll be right back. Here, take this and clean up a bit." He sat down on the toilet and cleaned up the drips manually, not trusting his control over his magic. Could he change back into a man? He didn't think it was wise, and something ominous resonated in his seidr at the thought. Changing form while injured was risky, he'd read about that, but then again this wasn't an injury. How did he even have a cycle, when he'd been in this form for only part of the last few days, and before that not at all for years? Mother came back with a pair of absorbent panties and a thick brown skirt that he slid on dutifully. It went with the tunic rather well, but he slid off the leather vest. Loki was so wrong-footed he nearly forgot to take off his shoes before discarding the stained trousers.

"Are you alright?" Mother asked him when he went to leave the little room.

"I have to go on my trip," he told her.

"Nonsense, you stay here with me until you've calmed down enough to change. Then I'll have someone fetch you a spare pair of trousers and you'll be right as rain."

"I don't think I could," Loki moaned. "I just... when I try to reach for that part of my magic I am so very sure it would be a bad idea."

"Fine. We can work around that. Stay here with me. I stayed with my mother in her chambers the first time. We'll make up some excuse and with a few illusions no one will know unless you want them to," she assured.

"How are you so calm about this?" he voiced the concerns that were burning his mind to ashes, "How can there be any doubt of what I truly am, now? I haven't been in this form for the required three months for a cycle to complete. Not even if I add up all the days and hours I've ever been in it! I have... I have lain with men and enjoyed it. I adore magic, and fine clothes, and the arts..."

"Loki, Loki, hush now," Mother soothed as she guided him to a comfortable cushion on the bench seat that ran around the reflecting pool in the center of her sitting room. "You are many things, my child. You are a complex and multi-faceted person, and I would not want you to be anything other than what you are. I love you for who you are inside, and I always will. Right now, you have to be this on the outside for a medical reason. We should get Eir up here, but if you'd rather have me tend to you I understand. I am not known as the Goddess of Motherhood without reason, after all; I know well how to perform the usual examinations."

"The fewer people who know of this the better," Loki sighed.

"Alright, then, are you still thirsty?"

"Very much," he admitted.

"That is normal. I'll be right back. Just try to relax. This is not the end of the realm," she soothed and dropped a kiss on the top of Loki's head. He tried to distract himself by looking into the pool. Right now it reflected the scattered puffs of cloud outside, and he mused on their shapes. At night, it would show a perfect mirror of the multitude of constellations that lit the night sky, and it was here that he had had his first lessons in astronomy.

Mother's magical skills were centered on the duties of motherhood and tending to the future that children would inherit. While true foresight was a magical anomaly, discarded as a myth by some and hopelessly rare by others, it was possible to use the patterns of the stars to look slantwise into one's own subconscious and come up with a strong guess as to the way events would likely unfold. The mind recorded all it ever beheld, but it would drive a person crazy to hold all the knowledge and detail of every sensory input over thousands of years at once in her mind. Therefore much was compressed into that deep place where gut feelings and hunches came from. Scrying the future was one way to harness that mental shorthand, and Queen Frigga was one of the best. Loki had never had much success in future-telling. For all that he was a decent strategist on the battlefield, his inner eye's focus preferred the present moment and granted him enhanced situational awareness. He simply did not have the inborn disposition needed to learn such craft. Mother came back with a pitcher of lemonade and a couple goblets.

"Sometimes it's harder to get the servants to let you do something for yourself than it is to call them to do it for you," she laughed. Loki let her babble, drinking greedily from his cup as she spoke about nothing much of consequence. There was that one time her orders were misunderstood and a scantily clad male servant walked in while she was in a delicate discussion with some of the ladies at court who were experiencing feminine troubles. The poor man had dropped the whole lunch tray and scampered off like a frightened mouse. There was a bit of gossip here and there, most of it old but still funny.

Gradually the knot of terror uncurled from Loki's mind and he was able to think straight again. This was a simple matter of badly timed magic. Of course, his body's processes had a natural rhythm and that would be translated into any form he took that cared about such things. Why, if he had changed into a red deer at this time of year it would be unlikely that he would have proper antlers - just the first nubs of them. Later in the year, he'd have the full crown, and if he picked an unlucky day in late winter he would know what it felt like to shed them.

He said as much to his mother, after he was collected enough to try and voice his thoughts, and supposed that the detached and dying horns would not change back with the rest of him. He had something vaguely detached and dying within him now, and it would have nowhere to go if he changed back into a man. A clump of rotting blood in his midsection was not something to risk. It was also a vague possibility that his body would change around the dying flesh without detaching from it, leaving it as an open and bleeding internal wound.

Mother insisted on calling Eir after that, on pretense of a social visit with the Queen. The first order of business was to take a look at what, if anything, was left of the binding on Loki's magic. The impression of sharp hooks still lingered, but Loki had neutered the binding quite well. It had been meant for a child's magic after all, not the power of a fully trained Master. Both women were disturbed by the sharpness of the spell, though they tried not to show it out of loyalty to the King: Eir's hand had twitched back from the echo to show her shock, and Mother's brow creased with worry again as she sighed deeply. Eir was able to help smooth over the scarred flow of magic and start to clear away the fading remains, and it was like taking off his armor and getting a massage after a long day of heavy training. He groaned at the relief. Loki had never noticed the strained feeling around his shoulders until it was gone, for it had been digging into him so long. The wound was already healing nicely, and with luck even the scars would fade in a few years.

Loki's theories about his current situation were discussed in an academic way, as if it was happening to someone else entirely and he was still quite fully male. Eir agreed with his instincts. The theory was sound. While hair, fingernails, and the outer layers of skin on a body were not technically alive, they were part of the complete whole and treated as such by changeling magic. Anything severed or sufficiently damaged would be treated as 'other' and thus she strongly recommended never trying to change to avoid a poison's effects. Dysmorphia posed similar problems, wherein the 'flawed' portion of the body is not considered part of the whole. In any case, changing one's shape while on your menses was well documented as highly inadvisable. It was something he might be able to do after a few centuries of practice, but according to the documentation, it was difficult even for those reasonably skilled at changing their form no matter the specific means.

"I thought there were political reasons for the public assumptions, and I never involve myself in such things. I didn't know you had been mistaken in thinking Prince Loki a Shape-shifter, my Queen, or I would have corrected the mistake immediately. Changeling magic is far more controlled, because it is only active during the change, but it does have its drawbacks. Shifting while poisoned is a perfectly reasonable way for a fully trained shape-shifter to contain a toxin, as a shifter's body is accustomed to being partially transformed. Changelings are an all-or-nothing sort. They dive into their new form and leave all of the other behind," Eir explained. "Any sort of partial transformation could be disastrous if held for more than a moment."

"It is an easy mistake to make," Loki allowed. "I lived under that false assumption for many years and did not know better simply because I had not used it much."

"You had not used it much because of the painful binding on your magic," Mother huffed.

"While that is true, so is the effect. Since the Prince shied away from using this ability it's nature remained clouded to you. I knew because I have performed tests on him all his life. If I drew information from his blood while he was a curious infant girl, the tests would show a girl. If I drew from him as an inquisitive infant boy, the tests showed a boy. That is not true of the shifters I have treated over the years. Their blood always shows what they were at birth," Eir described clinically.

"There is no correct answer, then?" Loki asked. Eir took a deep breath and thought for long moments.

"Whenever the King was even mentioned in a way you understood, you were a boy. Whenever you were in mixed company, you were a boy. Only in the company of women and girls did you change gender to match those around you. I would hazard a guess that you disliked being the only one of a kind in the room and changed to fit in with those around you. Were you put in a room full of only Alf or Dwarfs you would likely have done the same. You were, and apparently still are, looking for the technically correct answer rather than the true one," Eir rattled off, ending in a soothing tone.

Loki tried not to think about Eir's talents as a mind-healer. From what he knew of the rare art, it was better that he take what she said on face value and not look for manipulations. It took considerable conscious effort to do so, and he quietly repeated her words to make sure he'd taken them in. It was a rather telling analysis of his psyche, and he was glad it was only his mother and a woman bound to discretion by her healer's oaths to see him forcing himself to take it to heart. The lure of being the second (or the first, Sif had been qualified by Tyr the year after him despite being his elder by a handful of years as things stood) shield-maiden accepted into the King's Army rather than the only male Sorcerer under three thousand years old on record was clearly there. He had never liked being singled out for his strangeness. For all that he did enjoy those rare moments when he stood in the spotlight of praise for his achievements, he was far more often singled out for being not-quite-right. He was an odd bird, a weird one, a girlish boy, an oddity in any group, and he never liked that. Extending that backwards as an inherent rather than learned personality trait did make the question of his natural gender more nuanced.

"Changelings are very rare," Loki voiced contemplatively. "Isn't it normally passed down through the mother?"

"That is true for Shape-shifters, certainly. Changelings are rare enough that we do not know for certain how the mechanism for the change comes into being," Eir admitted. "They are somewhat more common in certain other realms, but even then it is a rarity. I know of no documented study showing that changelings must inherit from one parent or another, though it is suspected to run in families. There is speculation, because they are more common in the realms of fire and ice, that it is akin to elemental magic and therefore a matter of environment as much as lineage. Certainly, the time of your conception and birth was a chaotic and hectic environment."

"It was more chaotic than I care to remember," Mother sighed heavily.

"Well," Loki began brightly, "while I am hiding away I would like to take the opportunity to further my healer's studies. Specifically, I would like to begin formally learning about the function of the female body. I appear to have one that I can examine at will at this time that is in good health and properly functioning." His mother softly echoed the last two words, then sat bolt upright where she'd been lounging on a chaise.

"Properly functioning, and not leaving these chambers until you can cast a perfect birth control spell!" she hollered, aghast that some part of her mothering had fallen short of perfection.

"I know those cantrips well, Mother," he assured her. "That is likely the only part of my sexual education Father was thorough about, given what I saw in the books I skimmed the other day." He then demonstrated, laying a hand briefly on his abdomen. He paid attention to the feeling of the temporary spell as it took hold of him, as he'd never experienced that part. It was very subtle and likely to be missed if not looked for. Both women tittered at him.

"No, Loki, a proper one for a young maiden," his Mother's voice chimed with amusement. "Not the kind that lasts a night so a married woman can step out on her husband and still bear his children." Loki flushed, and then focused as his mother and teacher didn't give him time to be embarrassed before they started explaining the spells. There were quite a few more options than just the 'his and hers' barriers he knew, and he was soon too carried away by the discovery of new magic to worry about anything else.

\----------------------------

Loki sent one note to Father and another to Thor telling them he had left for his trip directly from Mother's quarters. To put truth to the lie, they had his manservant Sven bring up a bundle of supplies including several blank journals. He was a sharp-minded young man with neat brown hair and clear blue eyes. Loki had never needed to tell him anything twice, and he did his job flawlessly. Sven knew more about the servants of the palace than most anyone else and could move through the whole of it without notice. He'd been the fourth manservant Loki had hired and he sincerely hoped to never need to replace him. There had been some trouble when he'd made a man not much older than himself the head of his household staff, but the older servants had either fallen in line quickly or been reassigned. The man was quick and efficient, if slightly uncomfortable in delivering the supplies to the Queen without Loki anywhere in sight, and Loki had not finished writing his notes before his travel supplies were piled up in the Queen's guest room.

Loki had given the notes to Eir to give to a page, who would give them to a stable hand, to send out to the city watch, which would forward them to a small village just outside the city wall, who will send them back through the standard post to the palace guard, then on to the guard on duty outside Loki's chambers, who will pass them to the kitchens to be delivered with a meal. It had taken him a while to enchant the nested envelopes so they would take the most winding path that such urgently addressed notes could possibly take. He expected the circuit to complete at Tuesday's breakfast table.

Thor's simply said he'd heard a rumor about something he wanted to investigate, and would send word if it held true so Thor could join him on a quest. There was no need to end such a fine feast for nothing, after all. To the King, Loki sent a longer note that included formal instruction as to whom would oversee his affairs while he was away. It was a formality, as the Steward that oversaw his holdings as a landed minor was well established by now and nothing had changed about the setup for centuries. As for his sudden absence, Loki wrote:

> I have left directly from Mother's chambers this Sunday before lunch, and she can tell you I was well and even-tempered when she last saw me. I have made a startling discovery that must be investigated post-haste. This is, perhaps, much delayed and I simply cannot risk waiting longer to study my true nature. I have absented myself so I can uncurl my abilities and break new ground. Mother has promised to have words with you about it at some point, though she indicated she would wait for her temper to cool. I will return when I have sorted out my physical form, as the binding spell left on me has had an unintended consequence related to the timing of its dissolution. I do not expect to be back at court long before the Harvest Festival. While I will likely miss both May Eve and Summerfinding my absence is necessary. Nevertheless, be assured I remember my duties and oaths.

He thought this was a finely crafted note. It would ensure that Odin knew Loki was learning about his changeling nature, inform him that Loki didn't like how it had been handled, and avoided any accusatory tone. He should be able to completely avoid being called back before he was ready while still having plenty of time to go on a longer than usual trip.

In the meantime, mother pulled down a high stack of books from a shelf in her study so that Loki could start formal lessons in midwifery. There was evidently a bit more to the subject of feminine health than just birthing children, and in any case, pregnancy and its mysteries were not the main catalyst for all of this in the first place. Gynecology, which was apparently the more accurate term for the remainder of what he needed to study to graduate from the Journeyman's Army Healer Seal to a full Journeyman Healer's Seal, wasn't a simple thing. While skimming such information had allowed him to discover a new field of study, it also let him see how easily he could be blind to something he did not know about.

He did not know what he did not know, and that was the great weakness of the ignorant. If he could know that he was ignorant on a topic, then he could either seek an expert opinion or seek to expand his knowledge. He'd hit on that twist of logic many centuries prior and sought to read the entire nonfiction section of the card catalog in the library. When his tutors finally broke him of the idea that he could know everything he had been so close to finishing that it seemed silly not to. That had taken the better part of three years, but perhaps in doing that he had given himself a _false_ sense of knowledge. In the short term, he'd known some small thing about every subject that could be looked up in the library. In the long term he had not retained much and those little descriptions of books were hopelessly abbreviated. He could have learned as much just by looking at the diagram that showed the different sections of the library and their dedicated topics. It was humbling to have to re-learn this lesson, and the time-traveling letter guided him to fill in whatever holes in his awareness he found while collecting masters who could hold greater knowledge for him.

He did rather hope that none of his gynecological studies would come in handy when he had to save his mother's life. This was all fine in theory, or in practice on a stranger, or even in the upkeep of his more-complicated-than-expected body, but not in the context of his mother. Being stripped and redressed in front of her was one thing, reversing their positions was another.

Frigga was cross with Odin, and let him know he wasn't quite welcome in her personal chambers without telling him why. She dined with her husband and still spent time with him in their shared chambers, but he was not welcome in her personal spaces. She also spent a couple hours every day tutoring Loki, working in tandem with Eir so that he received proper and intensive instruction to go along with his self-driven perusal of the textbooks he had at hand.

Loki amused himself in quiet ways whenever he wasn't studying or laying in cramped agony listening to music on some soft surface. The reflecting pool was nicer than the telescope in his chambers for casually taking in the larger shapes of nebulae and constellations, if limited in its academic value by the lack of magnification. The garden was full of many beautiful plants that he absently tended on a whim.

His sleep was much better than it had been in centuries. He originally attributed this to exhaustion due to his condition, but Eir dismissed the notion out of hand when he mentioned it this morning. It was down to the geas being removed. His magic was no longer fighting against the unnatural restriction at all hours of the night and day, so of course his sleep would be of better quality. She went on a short tirade over the effects of sleep deprivation before realizing what she was accusing her King of doing to his child.

It was now Tuesday early afternoon. The feasting over Thor's name day was finally starting to splinter from one giant gathering in the Great Hall to many smaller parties as May Eve approached, a return to the normal course of things and an indication that Thor's selection as Odin's successor was becoming old news at last. Mother had gone to entertain some courtiers in one of the smaller halls in the lower parts of the palace. Eir had finished drilling Loki on the various common ailments pertaining to aging women, and gone back to her duties in the Healing Rooms. She'd never been one for long hours of revelry, a trait that rubbed off on many of her more dedicated apprentices, as healers could be called to act in emergencies at any hour of any day. Loki had spent the last half hour reading some reports and lounging with a hot water bottle untying the knots in his lower gut. As long as he was still in Gladsheim there was no point in not keeping up with his normal work, after all, but the forecasts for this year's harvests weren't terribly interesting.

With the bottle going cold and the promise of another week of this agony at the minimum before this body finished its cycle on his mind Loki stood and tidied his workspace. In a moment of weakness, he'd proposed shifting into the form of a mortal, since the general shape would be the same and their menses were shorter. Eir remarked that the pattern for a girl's cycles varied in youth and was normally settling into permanence and potency at around one thousand years of age; also, mortal women had _monthly_ cycles. Suddenly ten to twelve days out of every season seemed like a bargain he could strike with the Norns without regret. Eir went on to suggest Loki try to catch and endure another cycle or two so that the pattern could properly set and he could more properly predict the situation. That was less attractive, and the next fell during the Harvest Festival so it would interrupt his duties to the realm, but he might be able to find time during winter to sequester himself on the following pass.

 Mother and Eir were the only ones who knew the truth and they were not always around. Loki had to deal with servants for his meals and other needs, and had been identified as Lynda: a talented healer in training with a rare blood disease that Eir was studying. Since the laundry servants knew Lynda was bleeding, this had a predictable effect. It explained why Lynda was sequestered in study far from everyone else; she was currently contagious, if only to the incautious, but not in need of the constant care of a sick room. Loki acted shy the few times he was in the room with them, and the servants were happy to leave 'her' alone. The Queen was quite kind to house her, but it was embarrassing and not the sort of thing to be gossiped about without multiple big names involved. The rumor mill was more interested in remembering their Queen's talents than speculating on some random artisan's daughter.

Wearing women's clothing had become necessary as part of the ruse. The practical empire-waist dresses in pastel colors made a significant difference to his appearance, complimenting the paleness of his skin, flattering his long limbs, and softening the muscles he'd built on the training grounds. He had initially raised illusions to change his appearance further, but Eir didn't want him expending the energy to keep the illusions in place while his magic was recovering from the broken binding and mother had wards that would interfere with such spells over time. He'd protested that it was hardly any trouble to spell his hair red each morning and wash it out at night, but the women worried over how clearly his physical condition was that of a blossoming girl in her first cycle. He was subjected to an array of horror stories about permanent alterations not unlike what he'd done to Sif's hair and temporary outbreaks of wild magic or mental instability brought on by identity crises. Loki figured it was unlikely he'd be recognized unless one of his or Thor's close friends saw him, and accepted that mother was worried enough about his mental health to fear 'Lynda' becoming a part of his psyche permanently, no matter how unlikely he thought it was he'd develop such mental disease.

This morning Loki had gone so far in letting his mother have her way that he'd allowed her to do as she wished with his longer hair. As a result, two thin braids came down along either side of his hairline to his ears and swept back to meet near the nape of his neck, containing the rest of his hair which was carefully brushed and devoid of the oil he usually used. Without any oil, his chin-length black hair tangled in waves and curls that had needed quite a bit of brushing to tame. A scattering of tiny pins weighed down certain parts to keep it from becoming mussed and fixed the little braids in place, shining like silver stars in his dark hair. Mother had gushed over her finished work, forgetting that she was meant to be reinforcing Loki's identity as a man and lamenting that she'd never had a daughter to do this with before. Loki refused to admit how much he liked the way he looked aloud for fear of sounding mentally unstable, but a bit of vanity certainly wasn't out of place. Negating the short hair Loki looked like a virginal maiden of high birth, and for the time being that is what he was, so he might as well enjoy himself however he could in his current situation.

Loki padded out of the guest bedroom and through the sitting room with its reflecting pool. The light brown slippers were the only leather he had left, and were so soft that they hardly counted. Mother had brought most of the clothes she offered him out of storage from somewhere, though he was so much taller than her he had to wonder where they came from. Since the third day of his sequestration was apparently one in which he didn't give two fucks about actually being male, his dress today was a pale pink with yellow floral embroidery along the high waistline. It had long sheer sleeves that were slit to let the gentle breeze cool his shoulders and ended at embroidered cuffs, the pale flowers edged in golden beading. He wore no jewelry, but had tucked a white violet behind his ear. The symbolism amused him.

Loki caught sight of his reflection in a tall mirrored cabinet as he walked through the Queen's chambers to the private garden. He felt pretty, and refused to feel any negative emotion about that. He _was_ pretty, in a rather delicate and pure way that he didn't think he could have pulled off. He would have thought he would be more like Sif with beauty barely containing the harsh strength of a warrior or else like Amora with her wicked allure that clearly showed powerful magic. Instead the slits of the dress' sleeves showed the softest part of his shoulders, the long layers of soft fabric and high round neck were modest, and the overall impression was of an underage maiden of privilege and grace.

Perhaps it was mother's aim that he looked his age for once. He was the youngest official member of the court, having been elevated to sit with the Justiciar as a forensic examiner and interrogator by virtue of having completed several courses of study well ahead of the standard schedule. Thor was next youngest and sat with the generals, and as announced would take his proper place on the dais beside Odin a century from now, but he wasn't often in attendance. The next official member of the court was three hundred years Loki's elder, and he was just an assistant to a Jarl's representative who occasionally filled in. Loki put a lot of consideration into making himself look proper enough to be respected in that aged space, and suddenly looking properly underage was a sharp change of tactics. It reminded him that before this transformation he didn't yet need to shave his chin, as he had not yet grown a beard. It was not that he'd never used his youth to his advantage: there were several older women in the court who found his boyish smile adorable and it was easy to get people to forgive him small slights if he shed his wide-shouldered coats to look like a childish tool of mischief. It had just stopped being his default tactic at some point.

Loki wandered through the garden, amusing himself by thinking of the language of flowers and piecing together what statement each flowerbed was making. In truth, few of the flowerbeds were planted with that obscure Alf code in mind, so he wasn't so much deciphering anything as he was fabricating tales from the flimsiest evidence. It was fun, and he worked to find the most ludicrous tale to share with mother when she returned. He was working out something about a bed of anemone near a tall acacia backed with the ever-present honeysuckle when he heard something over the rushing water of the multi-tiered fountain he was sitting aside. Heavy footsteps, approaching fast.

No one was supposed to be here, the guards and servants had their posts either in the hallway or waiting room. There was no reason for anyone wearing armor to be here at all. Loki moved as silently as he could to the far side of the fountain, drawing shadow and illusion around himself to hide in plain sight. Volstagg the Voluminous passed through the garden at a steady pace, passing the glade the fountain stood in without looking into it. Loki followed, keeping to adjacent pathways so there was always a bed of flowers between them. The warrior knocked on the doors that led to the Queen's chambers and waited. Why would he be calling at the back door?

"Young Miss, I am on urgent business for the Prince," Volstagg called out loudly after a few moments passed. "I know you are sequestered in study, but please come to the door." Loki considered his situation. If Volstagg was here on Thor's orders asking after 'Lynda' it meant someone had talked to Thor about the palace's new resident in a way that they thought would interest the elder prince. That was either flattering or vomit-inducing, if not both. It also meant that Volstagg would eventually open the door on his own to see if all was well within. Loki dropped the spells hiding himself from sight and took position around the first bend in the garden path, with only a sliver of his left side peaking around the trellis.

"I'd rather not," Loki called timidly, startling the large man into spinning around.

"Oh, I must have walked right past you!" he chuckled, taking a few steps toward the trellis. "Please Miss, I mean you no trouble. I just need to know if you have seen Prince Loki lately."

"No, sir," Loki said, smiling to himself since there was no 'Prince' Loki to see lately. Now, if he were asking after a Princess Loki, he could help him. Volstagg developed a troubled frown and tried to walk around the trellis to see who he was talking to, but Loki ducked further into the garden. Volstagg hadn't seen his feminine form for long, and he'd been quite far into his cups when he had, but Loki didn't want to speak with him face to face. Loki's face was softer overall, but all his features were similar enough to raise suspicion.

"Hold on, Miss," Volstagg called. "Where are you going?"

"I finished my studies for the day, and so I am enjoying the garden," he called back to the warrior. "Is there something else you need from me?" Loki doubled back so that a wall of honeysuckle covered latticework was between him and Volstagg. The warrior regarded him with frustration through the tiny gaps in the leaves.

"Loki has gone missing, and it is very important to Prince Thor that we investigate this properly," Volstagg explained. Loki frowned. What made Volstagg think it was acceptable to reference him so casually to a stranger? Did Loki have so little of the warrior's respect that he didn't address his Prince properly even when speaking to some random maid? "Please come out from there."

"I do not know you, and am without escort sir, so I will not come out," Loki insisted.

"Come, now, I am Volstagg the Strong. I fight as one of Prince Thor's chosen companions and personal guards. Everyone at court knows me," Volstagg implored.

"I am just a midwife in training, sir, and have not been to the court proper," Loki insisted.

"You have my word you are in no danger, young miss. It is imperative we find Loki before he gets into some kind of mischief," Volstagg sighed, losing some of his patience.

"I cannot trust a man who would speak so casually of his betters. You have twice now referred to the Young Prince by name alone," Loki shot back. "You could be who you claim to be, or you could be someone else entirely. I must ask you to leave, as no one is supposed to be here, and if you do not I will call the guards."

"You know something, don't you?" Volstagg asked. Loki controlled a gasp, that was not how he expected Volstagg to respond.

"I told you I have not seen Prince Loki. Now please leave, as you are not meant to be here," Loki insisted. "I am meant to be sequestered, and am only here at the Queen's whim. Please do not linger here."

"Oh ho! Worry not, Young Miss, the word was that all should stay clear of the Queen's guest chambers. We are in the Queen's Garden, and you will be in no trouble from that. The Queen is a kind woman, there is no better in all the realms, and she would not punish you for speaking with me here," Volstagg assured in what he likely thought was a soothing tone, but was so bombastic and booming that it came across as bossy. His steady advance through the winding pathway was downright menacing, for all that Loki didn't think Volstagg meant it that way. If Loki had actually been some simple maiden and not a fully trained and deadly warrior, he'd be within his rights to feel fear.

"I know you not, and do not trust your words. I will ask you one last time to leave before I call the guards on you as I am a maiden without an escort, and you are a man I do not know," Loki promised, darting away through the garden closer to his own chambers.

"Very well, I will take my leave of you for now," Volstagg agreed. Loki raced around the outer edge and back into Mother's rooms, locking the door behind him.

Well, Loki would not be wandering about in the garden any longer. The Queen's Garden was part of the private royal apartments, but not technically part of her private chambers and therefore open to any that were welcome in the royal apartments, such as his brother's friends. How any of the Warriors Three had come upon that loophole without prompting he'd never guess, though the better question may have been why. Loki's notes should have arrived by now, unless someone was unforgivably slow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I realized when I went to post this that I had posted a couple chapters at once last time. I wasn't being careful when I compiled it in Scrivener. I'm not upset by how it turned out and I've gotten good feedback. I'm keeping it. So, this story will only have 5 chapters instead of the planned 10, but nothing is being cut. If anyone has an opinion on this I'd love to hear it. I have the story cut up scene by scene in Scrivener for my own sanity and organizational purposes, as a lot of these scenes changed order and content since the NaNoWriMo first draft, so compiling them into chapters is the last decision I make before publishing. I did not plan chapter breaks when I wrote it at all.


	4. Everything I Know is Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin isn't the best dad, Frigga is the best Mom, and Loki is a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: there is blood, some of it is menstrual, and a lot of not-talking about child abuse.

To distract himself Loki went into his mother's study. It was the room furthest from the garden, and he could feign that he hadn't heard anyone knocking on the back door if anyone returned. Mother kept a large selection of books in her private collection, though many were on display in a special section of the library rather than tucked away here. The books kept in her chambers were those that meant something to her, that she used often, that were of particular monetary value, or that contained rare and restricted knowledge. Most had to do with healing, scrying, and history. There was a shelf of children's tales that Loki knew well from the many times Mother read them aloud in centuries past. There were many books without titles on the spine, which wasn't uncommon for rare texts, and their placement on the shelf informed their content. There was one section of such books next to the children's books, however, and Loki pulled one down to see what research materials mother would be keeping next to some of the favored fairytales from his early childhood.

The title page identified it as A Trip to Jotunheim, Observations of an Outsider above a string of unintelligible markings. Loki frowned as he flipped through the pages. As books went, it was of rather terrible quality. There were spelling mistakes, the handwriting was poor, and there did not seem to be any citation of any other works. It was a journal of observations made by some random Alf that had journeyed to Jotunheim and observed the Jotnar at a distance. There were a few sketches of villages, buildings low and rounded by snow barely distinguishable from natural snowdrifts or outcroppings. He read the last chapter, where the man summarized his trip and seemed rather over-pleased with himself. He had managed to go completely undetected in his trip, speaking to no one, and used an enchanted staff to return to Alfheim. The staff was apparently stolen, and he planned to pay for it by selling this book. He had concluded that the Jotnar society was completely unstructured, like that of wild animals, and had no property laws. There was constant theft and it went uninvestigated and unpunished.

Loki put the book back and took out the next one. This book was also about Jotunheim, but of much better quality. Rather than an Alf thief using a stolen staff to travel the world tree, this author was a Vanir scholar who secured travel with merchants and was welcomed by the then Queen of Jotunheim. The trip was still painfully brief for cultural research, but at least the author admitted such weakness. Loki skimmed it, much of the text focusing on the commoner's communal approach to childcare: any hungry child could go to any kitchen and expect to be fed. Every adult was expected to care for any child within their line of sight in case of injury, and they could teach any child anything the child would consent to learn regardless of gender or parentage. Each community had a gathering place where children were obligated to attend lessons on basic things, taught by elders to an assembled group of children segmented by ability level. Progression through the levels had nothing to do with age and everything to do with merit, concepts that in Asgard would be unthinkable if Loki didn't exist.

That was an uncomfortably accurate comparison. Mother had pushed hard for Loki's tutors to let him advance as fast as he was able instead of plodding along the prescribed age-based schooling. Instead of withholding further study and encouraging him to go hunting or fill his idle time with leisure pursuits, they instead let him run about to masters of any and every craft imaginable and ask whatever questions he could come up with. He had thought it was a tactic to slow him down and keep his mischief at tolerable levels - there were parts of his training he had to be physically big enough to deal with and he was self-aware enough to admit it wasn't wise to be around him when he was bored - but he hadn't thought of where the inspiration for such tactics came from. As a result, he had entry-level knowledge of over two dozen crafts and had been labeled fickle and undisciplined for continuing to collect entry-level knowledge when he'd already begun formal study in another field. Not to mention the fact that he had studied on multiple tracks to Apprentice level and completed his Mastery of Battle Magics before the age Thor achieved Knighthood and entered the Kings Army. Loki had of course completed the trials and become a Knight of the Kings Army himself, as he was a Prince, but after all his waffling about he'd been a full eight centuries old by then and pushing the upper bounds of Grandmaster Tyr's patience.

Mother had treated him like a Jotun child. That felt fairly insulting at first pass, but there were over a dozen books here about Jotunheim. Surely Mother hadn't done it on a whim or as an experiment. Loki briefly reviewed the contents of the books. There weren't many books written about Jotunheim available in Asgard, he knew the section in the library was filled with questionable accounts from the war written by Aesir warriors drunk on glory, so these were likely the best available authorities on the subject. Even so, they were all suffering from some serious flaw. Most of the authors were not gifted in writing the All-tongue, the high language of Asgard and standard for scholars. It was one of those magics that had to be passed from one living mind to another: The All-tongue translated any language based on the collected knowledge of all that could speak it, an ability that was bestowed at a certain age to every eligible child in some realms or earned through merit in others. However, it's written form was not so easily learned, and most educated Aesir used simpler Aldska for their day-to-day needs. A couple of the books were written in a strange curving script on one page and the familiar angular runes of All-speech on the opposite page, and Loki was shocked to discover that written Jotska was a flowing and delicate thing not unlike the elvish scripts he knew.

_Know your enemy better than you know yourself._

He selected a set of five of the books, figuring that knowing more about one of Asgard's worst enemies may come in handy during some future confrontation. None of the books on Jotunheim were very long, one was so short it was better described as an essay, but these five seemed to have the most respectable sources. He could read quite quickly under normal circumstances and expected to finish one or two of them before dinner. With the hot water bottle reheated, a tall pitcher of lemonade within arm's reach, and the cushions on the chaise arraigned to optimize comfort he settled in to learn about the Jotnar.

Within the hour he was hopelessly confused. He'd heard stories his whole life about Jotunheim, and they described a society of vicious savages as wild as rabid dogs. The first book he'd picked up had confirmed that impression, but these more respectable works did not. They were all very old, dating from before the fall of Svartalfheim, so perhaps things had degraded in the millennia hence, but even so the realm described in these books bore little resemblance to the land of monsters everyone living talked about. They described a rich trade between Jotunheim and the other realms, focused primarily on the artistic ability of Jotun craftsmen. Other realms, especially Svartalfheim, traded heavily with Jotunheim. In that icy realm there was an understandably high cost to refine metals and blend alloys, but it had many raw natural resources. At some point Jotun miners sent nearly all their raw ore off-realm. The refined materials traded to Jotunheim in exchange were fashioned into everything from beautiful luxury items to powerful medicines and again sold at market. There was also a large fishing industry, with meat and pearls exported from Jotunheim in exchange for grains and fruits that could not be easily farmed in their harsh climate.

Similar to Asgard, the realm of Jotunheim was not a set of spherical worlds as most of the nine were. It was instead made of engineered and natural asteroids and planetoids in stable orbit around a single dim sun, giving the realm it's ring shape in the various stylized drawings of Yggdrasil. Some of these planetoids had vast oceans under their frozen surface, others were rich in mineral wealth, and some had more temperate climates with yearly thaws and dense forests. The capitol city was built just after the Bifrost, as was true of most realms to one degree or another, to be roughly in sync with the seasons on Asgard. That city, Uthgard, was located on one of the larger planetoids with a molten interior that fueled the natural baths and forges carved into the rock in the deepest depths below the Royal City. The baths were said to have healing properties, and there had once been a busy tourist trade revolving around them.

That wasn't to say that everything in the books was wonderful and virtuous. They were as a rule nearly naked, wearing jewelry and other adornments that failed to cover their bodies. The sketches were nearly pornographic! They seemed to tolerate sloth by giving away food and other services for free to anyone, and the descriptions of their economy were twisted mutilations of everything Loki had been taught. The Jotnar also had a communal approach to childcare, with children below a certain height literally belonging to everyone. Essentially, they were homeless beggars that could not be refused, and they swarmed into cities and around the noble houses for food rather than eating with their families.

Nevertheless, blood was incredibly important on some level, and disgracing one's family was an offense punishable by death in extreme cases. Sorting out whose child was whose was made easy by their nature according to one text. It said that Jotun children were born with markings on their skin that displayed their lineage. The markings on the chest and back all taken from the mother's line with the legs, hands, and feet taken from the father's. There was a slight variation over the course of many generations, but from one to the next it was negligible outside of certain 'personal' marks on the upper arm. Loki had heard of these markings, but had been under the impression that they were carved into the skin just after birth in brutal ritual. Two of the other texts called them lineage scars, implying the brutal rituals he'd head of previously. Additionally, there was some reference to a blood ritual among the nobility that occurred just after birth in one text - a crowning ceremony - but there were no solid details in any of the texts. It had something to do with horns. Noble children would sprout horns when they reached maturity, much like deer, and there was a fifty-year cycle where they would be shed and grow anew not unlike the regular cycle of new teeth that all the long-lived races had. Two of the three texts that mentioned the noble class specifically supposed that the nobility of that realm was actually a separate species due to vague 'procreation related physical attributes' and the ability to grow horns.

Loki put the last book down on the floor next to the chaise where he lounged. He'd run through them much faster than he should have if he aimed to retain much of their content, but the whole experience had been surreal. Nearly all these books spoke of the Jotnar as people. He'd never once thought of them that way. These were monsters that used every opportunity to their advantage, stealing and murdering as they pleased. They were little better than common wolves or ogres, with no craft or industry of their own. The nursemaids had told him horrific stories of what would happen to unwary children if they were out of bed at night - the monsters that could see in the dark would eat them up. Unwary travelers would be snatched off the roads. Fully grown men would be hunted in the forest before they had been put in their place. They were evil and chaos and had no laws, no customs, no history.

That was... that was just plain stupid now that he thought about it, but he couldn't shake it. It didn't make sense. He was an intelligent young man. Why could he not think of the Jotnar as a people? Because they were not. He had heard and repeated dark tales of them through his whole life. They were monsters, but Mother had seen fit to take parenting advice from them when her middle child could not be properly challenged by the standard education schedule.

On Midgard and in certain backwater corners of Alfheim, there were many silly tales about the so-called Norse Gods. Most of them left Loki gasping for air between bouts of laughter, not only because those people utterly misunderstood the meaning of titles such as 'God of War' given to the Aesir Nobility by the common folk. One ludicrous claim was that Odin's mother Queen Bestla was either a full-blooded Jotun or a half-Jotun through her father Sir Bolthorn. Queen Bestla, were Loki's grandmother alive today, would have been eight thousand years old. These books depicted Jotunheim around the time Loki's grandmother was born and raised. His grandmother, who grew up with a vibrant trade in and out of Jotunheim that touched every branch of Yggdrasil, and was remembered as a kindhearted but powerful Sorceress who traveled often and everywhere. Queen Bestla, whose exile came soon before hostilities between Jotunheim and Asgard started sparking into skirmishes, if Loki remembered his history correctly. Disgraced Queen Bestla, who had so vocally objected to the total destruction of Svartalfheim that she was exiled from Gladsheim by her King and went to live in the mountains for the remaining years of her life.

Suddenly the silly rumors-turned-mythology didn't seem so humorous. Could Loki have inherited some of his restless and fickle nature from a Jotun great-grandfather? Odin had a habit of going off on trips as well when he was younger, and it was often said that in that wanderlust Loki was more like his father than Thor was. A bit of dirty laundry, hidden away and forgotten, that had been old and uninteresting news well before the invasion of Midgard by the Jotnar.

Loki could almost see how the history had flowed from one moment to the next. The Aesir lived long lives, but they lived for the moment. This was the realm eternal, and when change came it was first resisted, then endured, and finally accepted with blinding ferocity that erased the past. He'd seen it happen after a royal decree. No one liked to dwell on what used to be, with their long lives that kind of regret would quickly pile up to bury a man, so they thought of now and stretched it out to the future and the past unending. It was both a virtue and a vice of the Aesir to think that way, but it was an essential part of their identity that many were proud of. Queen Bestla left Gladsheim, and with her left any resistance to the condemnation of the Jotnar. They would have lost their strongest trading partner when the madman Malekith destroyed the Dark Elves of Svartalfheim - first socially and then in full. The economy and culture in Jotunheim crumbled due to their extreme interdependence. The ever more desperate people sacrificed more and more of themselves in the aftermath until they raised an army. They invaded Midgard, and Asgard defeated them. By that time, they lived like rabid dogs: lawless and despicable.

It all made sense, except that it didn't at all. If the Jotnar were once as these books depicted, and then laid so low that they became rabid dogs, how did they organize enough to threaten Asgard's armies at all? There were thousands of casualties on both sides. Warriors spoke of their close calls with death as if they happened in honorable combat, not in hunting and controlling mindless beasts. Some part of what was in these books must have still existed at that time, and who was to say it did not still exist? In all the years of Loki's life, no Jotun had ever been permitted the use of the Bifrost. There was a strict blockade in place and a trade embargo agreed to by all the Realms of Yggdrasil. No one had been to Jotunheim and no one had left Jotunheim in over a thousand years. There were methods of communication - scrying and gifts similar to Heimdall's sight - but these were all severely limited. Loki knew only that soon after Loki's presentation to the court Odin had sent King Laufey a message and it was returned encased in a block of ice. The ruined message sat in a cabinet in one of the lesser used meeting rooms and in three centuries had yet to melt.

So, how did anyone know they were monsters? They were, Loki was as sure of that as he was that breathing was a good idea, but how did he know? What reputable source did he have for that knowledge? Who told the stories that scared the children of Asgard into behaving properly?

Nursemaids, young mothers, servants, commoners, and all manner of people who didn't know what they were talking about unless it was their own trade. People who had never traveled far from their own homes. People who had listened to the stories of the returning soldiers and to whatever propaganda had been put out and utterly internalized it. People who had listened to him spin stories by the hearth, and responded in kind with tales of their own.

Loki stood up and put the books away. He ate very little and retired to the guest room early, drowning out his thoughts by listening to his music and focusing on attempting the most difficult Yoga poses he could while wearing a dress. The Jotnar were monsters. He'd known that his whole life.

Just as he'd known he was a shape-shifter his whole life.

Just as he'd known he was a man his whole life.

 

\----------------------------

"Sweetheart, are you feeling well? The servants said you barely touched your food last night, and you are normally up before now," Mother asked him, peaking into the guest room. Loki was still stretched out on the bed in a nightgown staring at the flame of a single candle on his nightstand. Occasionally he made it change color or dance about.

"Everything I ever knew is wrong," Loki declared.

"That isn't true," she soothed, coming in and sitting on the edge of the soft bed. The light of the final sunrise painted her hair vibrant gold. She was radiant.

"Everything I never questioned is wrong, then," he amended, looking back at the candle. "All the assumptions I've made about how the universe works when I'm not looking at it personally are suspect."

"I don't think you have to tear down quite that much in order to rebuild your understanding of the universe. Women have survived menses since the dawn of time," she chuckled, amused at his dramatics and not understanding why he was so shaken at all. How could she? At her age, she could likely remember seeing items from Jotunheim in the markets during her youth on Vanaheim. She might own jewelry fashioned by Jotun metal-weavers or adorned with their pearls. She had likely eaten fish imported from their seas.

_Enemies and allies are so easily fluid titles, but we are a servant of Yggdrasil._

"What do you think of the Servants of Yggdrasil?" Loki asked as casually as he could. The letter hadn't capitalized the name, so it could have meant only that as a Prince Loki had taken oaths to protect all the nine realms, but there was a group with that name. Perhaps he was taking things out of context, but here he was trying to wrap his head around the fact that Asgard's most vicious and monstrous enemies were just a people whose economy had collapsed.

"The Servants of Yggdrasil?" she asked, startled by the change in topic. "They are a noble group, if a bit troublesome at times. They are vigilantes, or most of them are, but in line with the virtues Asgard exalts. Those who have chosen to work within the system of governance are without question some of the most honorable men and women I have ever met. Those who operate outside official law enforcement do occasionally cause trouble, but more often they operate as mercenaries of a sort: informants and allies for our soldiers when they are far from Gladsheim in otherwise lawless places."

"I don't think I have ever disagreed with them," Loki offered, keeping his tone casual, "even about Svartalfheim. Thor thinks they are silly for being grieved over that realm's state, but he doesn't see the subtlety of meaning there. The Dark Elves took their own lives, choosing to burn their world to ashes in hopes of taking out our army in an act of mutual destruction. They were unsuccessful in their boundless pride, and had they been successful in their goals they would have ruined not only their own realm, but all of Yggdrasil by disturbing the balance in her branches and poisoning her with the Aether. That doesn't mean we can't be mournful about having one of her branches sterilized. It isn't that they want Malekith to still live: it is that his existence and end was a shame. They want all of Yggdrasil to flourish, and that part is all but dead."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Mother smiled warmly. "It shows a strong understanding of what Yggdrasil means. Through her, we are all connected. Without the branches and roots of Yggdrasil life would not flourish in the nine realms and we would all fall to ruin."

"Everyone says Jotunheim is a realm of vile monsters, but weren't the Dark Elves worse than the Frost Giants? They wanted to conquer Midgard, but Malekith wanted to darken all of Yggdrasil's light," Loki said, his thoughts as jumbled as his speech. "No one speaks of the Dark Elves as horrific monsters, they were noble combatants that gave their lives rather than abandon their cause. Yet even defeated, the Jotnar are monsters that snatch up unruly children and take unwary travelers off the road."

"They are not monsters," Mother scolded, clearly appalled. Loki snapped his attention from the candle's flame to his mother's stern face. "They were, and are, a people laid low by starvation and natural disaster. Malekith went mad from the power of the Aether, and his people worshiped him as a living god. Such worship as that can be horribly dangerous thinking, and led to disaster not only in his realm, but also in Jotunheim to a lesser extent. King Laufey sought to better feed his people in a foolish and destructive way that also would have upset the balance of Yggdrasil, but there is one fact I don't think your tutors would have put emphasis on that is quite important."

"What fact?" Loki asked, amazed as his mind searched back for any time his mother had vilified the Jotnar and coming up surprisingly blank. She had never been the one to tell him scary bedtime stories about Jotnar. That had been the maids... and Odin. Mother's scary stories were mostly about pixies, wolves, lawless men, and occasionally Muspelheim.

"That King Laufey was all of ten centuries old when he took his throne and started uniting the different tribes under a single rule, and only twelve centuries old when he invaded Midgard," Mother informed with the smug look of someone who had made their point. "He had only lost a few small battles in his campaign to unite Jotunheim under one banner, and the years he ruled over his realm before invading Midgard were as prosperous as they could have been. He was young, ambitious, and everyone around him told him his plans would succeed. They certainly were not the only realm to think the Mortals of Midgard the same as cattle or insects."

"So, he was monstrous out of ignorance rather than malice, and that makes it alright?" Loki asked. It was interesting that Laufey had been a little older than Thor when he invaded Midgard, but not an acceptable excuse. A pained look crossed his mother's face, her brow furrowing deeply and her hands fluttering as she ordered her thoughts.

"He was a very bright young man, and by all accounts much like you when it came to academics," the words seemed to stick in her throat like poison. They stuck in his ears, too, as the books about Jotun childcare flashed through his mind. He did not want to be compared to Laufey, even in a compliment. "Can you imagine if you were suddenly sitting on the throne right now, in the aftermath of a horrible catastrophe? And imagine the time line: for two hundred years after everything you did worked out perfectly aside from the expected minor snags and complications of life. Everyone around you is singing your praises, all your advisers working together well, but the harvests are still too small. Even though you have done all you can and there are more resources spread out more equitably, it isn't enough to counteract the horrible situation your people are fighting against. Even controlling the birthrate was not enough. Your people need more farmland or there will be more deaths, and right next door there is this wide empty space that no one is putting to use populated by a weak short-lived race who can't live easily in the cold climates your people prefer to inhabit."

"They wanted to transform Midgard's primary world using the Casket of Ancient Winters. All the mortals would have frozen to death, and the heart of Yggdrasil would have been damaged," Loki interrupted.

"Your father believed that, as did many others. I even believe King Laufey said he intended to do it according to some accounts, but there was never any hard evidence that they could actually cast such magics. They would have needed a way to split the casket into two parts, or to get the living ice from their realm to grow on Midgard. On the other hand, Laufey and his advisers might have been smart enough to figure out such a thing given time. They were a team of brilliant minds, however misguided and twisted by desperation. It was best to stop them before such rumored plans could be put into place as any disruption in the flow of the seasons would have meant famine and flood on Midgard," she explained.

"Since Midgard is at the heart of Yggdrasil, such would have affected all the realms," Loki said, feeling the need to defend against his mother's words. It was a weak response, barely better than repeating himself. They were monsters, why did his mother not see them that way? Mother was watching him very carefully.

"Loki, the note you sent to your father must have been delayed somehow, and your brother has been trying to track where you have been. I heard that you had a visitor yesterday afternoon that didn't recognize you. I wonder, is there something that was said or done to upset you so?" Mother asked. Loki shook his head in dismissal.

"I found some books of yours, about Jotunheim before the war with Svartalfheim. The realm they describe sounds almost beautiful, if not properly structured as Asgard is," Loki admitted, then scoffed: "They ran around naked even when they were wealthy."

"That is true of the summers for much of their realm, as I understand it, but there are colder places and times when they wear less revealing clothing. Foreigners were never inclined to visit Jotunheim during their winter, for obvious reasons," Mother corrected, a puzzled frown on her face. "Also, they are very proud of their lineage, and covering their markings is considered on par with refusing to name your house. Is that little thing what bothered you?"

"Everyone has always told me they live like wild dogs," Loki shrugged.

"You are afraid of them," Mother guessed.

"No, it is just startling to see that they were once similar to the Alf when they are now so loathsome," Loki argued, maintaining eye contact. His fingers twitched, and she noticed.

"You are afraid of them," she asserted, her face melting into deep sorrow. "You fear and hate them because of those silly stories, and you deny that they aren't true. Loki, that's just childish nonsense and propaganda. Surely you don't put so much stock in a few tall tales told by a scullery maid. Not at your age."

"What of tales told by honored warriors? Or those told by my father?" Loki asked, something desperate clawing in his chest. This was not the way the realm turned. There were heroes and there were villains, there were men and there were women, and all this gray mist billowing up around what ought to be simple and clear was intolerable. "I remember Thor crowing that when he was king, he would kill all the monsters; and Father looked so proud..." he trailed off. Mother's eyes were full of tears, her mouth working without making a sound. Her hands fluttered like falling leaves before reaching out and pulling Loki into a hug.

"It is fine to condemn one man for what he has actually done, but you cannot hate and fear an entire people. The Servants of Yggdrasil are right, Loki. When one branch of Yggdrasil is sickened we are all diminished. The Jotnar are part of Yggdrasil, part of the flowing energies that allow life to thrive and grow in this part of the universe, protecting us from outside invasion, and without her we would all suffer. More than half of those who planned the attack on Midgard are dead. King Laufey has admitted his folly, and not put one toe out of his realm since. They are beaten and broken, but they are not monsters or rabid dogs. There is nothing inherent in them that makes their lives less worthy than other races. I never want you to think such things again," she cooed through contained horror.

He didn't understand her. It was as if he'd broken her heart somehow. He wondered if she'd react this way even if he told her he sometimes thought of his death with glorious anticipation. All Loki could do was hold her tightly and wait for her to stop crying over him. "If you say so, Mother, then I will try to believe it," Loki assured her as honestly as he was able.

 

\----------------------------

Days came and went without further incident, and as May Eve came and went they were both starting to worry over the missing notes explaining Loki's absence. Loki was encouraged to read the rest of Queen Frigga's collection of books on Jotunheim during his free time, and to study them closely this time rather than rush through them. It would likely take him the rest of his ordeal to read them all, particularly since some of them were of quite vile quality, but he would do it for his mother's sake. Why she was so distressed over Loki's opinion of the Jotnar he still didn't understand, but it meant a great deal to her and that was enough reason for him to try and see her perspective.

Saturday morning saw Loki seated in the sitting room on the bench that ran around the reflecting pool in a soft blue dress. Mother and he had teased one another about it, calling it Jotun blue and pointing out the multiple sheer layers were much frillier than the simple silhouettes he'd been wearing. It was still modest, but there were cut-outs and swirls of embroidery that did bear some strong resemblance to the markings he'd seen painted in one of the less legible books. That one had at least been illustrated by a skilled artist. The collection of illustrations was compiled into a book by someone who could not translate Alfanska into Aldska at all. Luckily, Loki could read Alfanska perfectly well and could ignore the poorly translated words in favor of the artist's original notes. Mother had gone oddly still when Loki had finally got all the layers to fall correctly without static cling and declared himself as lovely as a swirling cloud in a blue sky. She was quiet as she fixed the silver pins that he couldn't quite get right when he did his hair, but smiled whimsically the whole time.

He was finally far enough in his medical studies to perform the appropriate scans for feminine anatomy. It was a simple matter of mind-driven magic; he could only do what he could understand, and he was skilled enough at healing already that the expansion of his skills was down to vocabulary and clearing up various misconceptions. He gathered the glowing threads of information and pushed them into an illusion so he could see them clearer. It was part of his nature that he experienced magic with all his senses, but that made complicated medical data harder to understand. It was brilliant for making things, because he was intrinsically aware of every tiny facet of what he was doing, but medical scans made him feel whatever the target person felt except more keenly and in abstract ways. What did it mean about his health to feel feathers and flower petals dance on the backs of his hands, or smell apricots? Not a helpful instinct, and one many healers had to work around. It would keep him from advancing much farther in the healing arts without extreme effort and dedication, but that was a common enough hurdle to be well understood.

"I am not fertile," Loki observed, a frown pinching his eyebrows together.

"At your age, you wouldn't be very potent in either gender," Eir pointed out in such a clinical manner Loki didn't immediately feel the need to defend his manhood. She further softened the blow by repeating things he already knew. "A young woman needs to have cycles in order for her womb and ovaries to mature. We, and the Vanir, are the only races under Yggdrasil that grow to our adult size so long before we actually mature into adulthood. We are still halfway a child when we stand shoulder to shoulder with our parents. Yet, though the body is the correct shape, the fruit within is not ripe. This scan is normal for a girl of about seven centuries, when the first cycle typically occurs. Hopefully you will mature more rapidly and catch up to where you should be now that you have begun."

"If you want to fully mature, you will have to endure your cycles," Mother teased.

"If only I had started two centuries ago, but we have tread that stone to dust," Loki sighed.

"If I may say something on a subject slightly outside my expertise," Eir hedged, sitting back into the wicker chair she preferred when they used the Queen's sitting room. Frigga nodded at her and the healer took a deep breath before sitting forward again. "I think it shows great strength to be flexible enough and sure enough to accept what you have accepted. Both of you, in handling this so well, have inspired my deepest respect. Last week, you were a nervous wreck, fidgeting and twitching around. Today, you speak with longing about ensuring the health of this form and your ability to bear children without suggestion of mental disquiet or thought of discarding your masculine lifestyle. It speaks both of your strength as individuals, and of the bond between you, that you have come through this trial so well." Loki scoffed and fidgeted, the spell dissolving in front of him.

"I have little choice but to accept this," Loki deflected with a teasing smile. "Unless you are suggesting that internal hemorrhaging or suicide are viable options."

"Do not joke about that," Mother sighed. "It is unsettling. You do not know how much I feared you would take that path."

"How could I, with you supporting me at every turn?" Loki asked, a genuine smile lighting his face. "Still, it is only the three of us. As much as I have found some peace with these truths within these closed chambers, I do not think the rest of the realm would take kindly to their Prince swapping genders. I do want to ensure that this form is healthy and whole, but how could I do that when I must be attending my duties during the Harvest Festival?"

"We will find a way to give you the time you need. You have a point about the Harvest Festival, but perhaps we can encourage the cycle to fall at a more opportune time. I would think that if you changed later than you should, it would push back the starting date," Mother supposed.

"It is worth trying," Eir agreed. "If you do not bleed after several days we will try something else."

"I could change at night and sleep this way without hiding myself away," Loki proposed, waving a hand as if he was spinning the thoughts fresh rather than describing had already been done. "That way if things do not go to plan we would only have to cancel or suddenly reschedule an expected absence."

"We should also inform your father," Mother added gently. Her face was scrunched in an apologetic expression, and her hands sought Loki's knee.

"I will not speak with him until this is over," Loki objected. "He will not listen to me shaped like this, I know it."

"You are his child as well, and he feels a responsibility to care for you. He will not be happy we hid this from him," Mother warned. She sipped her drink and gave a little huff at Loki's shameless pouting. When Loki ignored this and attempted to go back to reading his notes, she tried again. "I know my husband. He doesn't always share his emotions, but that does not mean he has none. He is very worried over his son's apparent disappearance, and my assertions that my son goes off on his wandering at this time every year have not reassured him because of how early in the season it is."

"If he reacts to this sort of thing as he has in the past, it will mean my death," Loki pointed out, tired of having this same argument every day at the end of his lessons and bringing out his sharpest blades to try and end it once and for all. "I have no intention of dying today."

"I must disagree with you on this, my Queen," Eir cautiously added her thoughts before the Queen could object. "If King Odin were to overreact, it could cause us terrible trouble. It would be best to bring this to the King's attention gently after the matter is settled."

"Bring what to my attention?" the booming, irritated voice of King Odin All-father swept through the room. Loki snapped his head around to see Odin and Thor standing in the doorway that led toward the royal couple's shared space and Odin's own chambers, chiding himself for being too distracted to notice their approach before the door snapped open. No one spoke for long moments. The two large men walked into the sitting room to stand nearby to the seated women, towering over them with only Eir remembering her manners enough to stand at the King's arrival. "What would I wish to kill this young woman for, other than wearing my mother's old dress?"

"This dress was..." Loki trailed off, the 'Queen Bestla was part Jotun' theory suddenly holding a bit more water given its design.

"Odin, dear heart, please calm down. There is much we need to speak of," Queen Frigga rose as she spoke and stood tall between Loki and his father. Thor was off to the side far enough to have an unobstructed view, and was studying Loki without a single spark of recognition in his eyes.

"You say you are ill pleased with me without giving any reason, lock yourself away in chambers you bid me stay out of, spend your time within dressing this young maid in my mother's old finery, speak behind my back of Loki's disappearance, and then bid me sit down as if I am the one out of line?" Odin growled. "I have just received a letter from our missing son. Perhaps you could read it, and tell me again to calm down!"

"We should go," Eir said to Loki. "This is a private family matter. Perhaps just out into the garden, so they can call on us when they have finished."

"No, you will stay," Odin commanded.

"Yes, thank you Eir," Frigga said at the same time. Mother took a deep breath and huffed it out, clearly upset at being overridden. She faced Odin and spoke in an urgent, but relatively calm tone.

"You put a binding spell on Loki's magic and left it there to rot and scar for nearly eight centuries. Did you expect there to be no complications when it finally failed? Did you think I would be pleased with you when I found out about it? I did not know that our child was in daily pain, and he'd been suffering for so long he didn't realize it himself!" Thor's jaw dropped. Odin's ire stilled for a moment before coming back full force.

"It should not have troubled him at all unless he used his magic inappropriately," Odin assured.

"Loki is a changeling, my King," Eir offered, "not a shape-shifter. I have studied the remains of the binding you used on him, which I helped him clear away from the deep wounds it left in his seidr. Both the Queen and yourself have been wrong about what your son is, and that is partially my fault for not asking after his nature and assuming you knew the truth of it. As a consequence, you used a spell much too strong for your purpose. It is best that he has time to heal."

"He can heal here, not gallivanting across the countryside!" Odin insisted.

"Is my brother in some sickbed, hiding away from us?" Thor asked.

"Yes," Loki answered, in a tone of startled pleasure he used to reward his brother for using his brain properly. "Your brother is nowhere to be found, and will not be until he is healed enough to look like himself again."

"Loki has lost control of his form," Odin said, pulling his full attention to Loki. "You have seen him as he truly is?"

"I could hardly miss it," Loki giggled. Eir and Mother winced.

"Lady Lynda, I was told you are sick, and that Eir has been treating you," Thor spoke. Loki dropped his head into his hands for a moment. The oaf had seen him as a woman just last year, and he'd heard his voice, and he'd even described the exact truth of the situation a moment ago. "Did my brother hurt you when he lost control of himself?"

"I have been bleeding all week, that is all," Loki scoffed, angry beyond measure. He leaned back against the reflecting pool and crossed his arms petulantly. Could neither of them see him?

"That is more than what should be," Thor argued, his powerful voice keeping the court-trained ladies quiet as they waited their turn to speak. "Would you tell us where he is? We mean only to see that he is taken care of, and to prevent him from hurting others or himself further."

"So long as the East stands across from the West," Loki said, eyes suddenly watery. These silly hormones made a mockery of his self-control, at least where such sentiment was concerned. He'd had no such trouble with Volstagg, but he had not been practicing such self-control with mother at all on her insistence, so the sudden need to speak unexpectedly with Thor on this matter was intolerable. Best that he get thrown out of the conversation. "Prince Thor, you are the one person Loki does not want to be seen by most right now. Not when you might reject what you see. It is too new, and too strange, and he needs time to deal with this."

"Mother, who is this woman to Loki?" Thor demanded.

"I'd like to know that myself," Odin added.

"Oh, sweetheart, it is going to be alright." Mother chose to answer Loki instead, turning to sit down next to him as she had been. He wished she hadn't, as he needed to be sent away, but it seemed she understood how insulting it was that neither of them recognized him and intended to rub the truth in their faces. Loki looked at her out of the corner of his eye, blinking rapidly to try and clear the water gathered there. He failed, snapping his eyes shut as he felt the tear spill. Mother pulled him into a hug.

"Is she pregnant?" Thor asked in a loud whisper to Eir.

"Oh, my stars above," Eir exclaimed. "My Queen, Prince Loki's assessment of his education in the matters of sexual development and function was not exaggerated, but it had not occurred to me what that meant for his brother. Perhaps we ought to include Prince Thor in our lessons on gynecology, at least for the review, as he is clearly missing some important facts."

"Don't you dare!" Loki gasped. "This whole situation is humiliating enough."

"Why?" both older women and Thor asked at the same time, meaning separate things.

"You have been doing so well," Eir encouraged.

"This morning you were alight with happiness," Mother soothed.

"I'm not ready for this, as I was just telling you!" Loki argued.

"You have no choice," Odin cut in. "I will not let you hide the truth any longer. Where is my son?"

"Can you not see Loki?" Loki moaned. He stood and paced, a swirl of graceful fabric billowing after him. Whether or not the tiered and scalloped fabric was meant to look like the markings of a Jotun, Loki thought the way the layers parted and swirled with even the slightest movement was dramatic and elegant. When in motion, it looked like a roiling storm cloud. "Can you not see your child in this room?" He asked harshly, using the chance to get well away from Odin and his anger.

"I see a woman with ideas above her station wearing one of my mother's old dresses. One I particularly dislike, as she wore it to her trial," Odin scolded. Loki spun in place, fabric flying, to stare aghast at his mother.

"You let me wear this? Did you know?"

"You were so happy this morning, and I didn't know. I wasn't in Gladsheim when Bestla was banished," she explained.

"Enough! Where is my son?" Odin demanded.

"I am right here. I haven't gone anywhere," Loki pouted.

"Odin," mother cut in when it seemed that Odin would only shout more, "there is no such person as Lynda. This is Loki, as he has been since the binding spell you put on him failed."

"You are my brother?" Thor asked, clearly perplexed but not frozen with shock as Odin was. The muscular man walked up to Loki. He was still only a little taller than Loki was, though Loki was even thinner now than he had been and, dressed as he was, looked even more delicate. Thor squinted, and Loki wondered if he could tell there was a light dusting of make-up on Loki's cheeks. "Why do you look like this?"

"I found the binding spell on myself and dug it out," Loki said, unsure of what emotion he should allow to reach his face and so keeping it as blank as possible. "Afterward, I went to Mother for some help. It wasn't just for this, I wanted to complete more of my healer's training as well. Then I started bleeding and that has been a blessing and a curse all wrapped into one. I am your brother, and sometimes your sister, as has apparently been true all my life."

"Brother, you look..." Thor started, but Odin's booming voice cut off even Thor's rumbling thunder.

"That is dangerous nonsense, and breeds disease in the mind," Odin grumbled, advancing on his younger child. "You will change back and resume your place among the court."

"I can't," Loki insisted.

"You will change back, and this nonsense will end. You will see."

"Odin, Loki's condition is delicate, please..." Mother tried to intervene.

"You cannot indulge this confused identity. Loki is a Prince of Asgard, and I have warned him against this foolishness since he was a babe," Odin shouted. "He will return to his proper shape, as an obedient son should, and we will put this matter in the past."

"I cannot change back," Loki insisted. "It is not a matter of obedience, I physically cannot do it."

"Then I will help you do it, as I did when you were small," Odin declared. He clapped an iron-hard grip on Loki's arm, and a similar one on his seidr. The snagged threads that had just started to smooth were once again pulled painfully taught, and Loki screamed.

"King Odin, you will kill him!" Eir shouted over Frigga's wordless cry of fear, and Odin's grip relented.

Loki fell to his knees, panting and dizzy. His seidr, the threads of his life and the energies that made up his essence, were bruised and tangled. He couldn't use it to look within himself and see if there was any permanent damage, but he was aflame with pain as if he'd been beaten badly in a vicious brawl. Eir was at his side, and he felt her gentle magic pass through him.

"Internal bleeding, as we knew would happen," she informed them. "It is not as bad as it could have been, Loki fought the change enough to stop the whole of the organ from being ripped asunder, but this will take time to heal." The sound of flesh hitting flesh resounded in the room, and as Thor and Eir pushed Loki down to lay flat on the floor he could see a red hand-print bloom on the King's face. It distracted both Princes from what Eir was doing, but she seemed calm enough that it must not be as terrible as it felt. The distraction would help him cope with the pain, in any case.

"What could possibly be so urgent?" Queen Frigga scolded. Her voice was low and even, controlled carefully in contrast to Odin's behavior. "I can't even begin to understand why you would insist on this being done immediately. Loki has been here in these chambers every minute of the day since this began. Nothing has gone wrong, save that the letters he wrote you and Thor were delayed."

"Do you see him? He is dressed disgracefully!" Odin roared back.

"Our child is dressed appropriately for the gender of the body our child currently has," Frigga insisted. "That doesn't mean he is not a Prince, or that he intends to change how his life is ordered, but there are hard facts here that we cannot ignore."

"He had been shifting his shape constantly as an infant. Would you have him go back to that?" Odin accused.

"Loki is a changeling, and sometimes he needs to change in order to remain healthy," she explained calmly. "We were wrong to treat him as a shifter. While Loki has been studying the healing arts, I have been studying changelings. The mechanism they use for change is so much different, no matter that it often appears the same to the untrained eye, and requires different care. I have failed as a mother in not providing him what he needed, and you have failed as a father for not letting him show us what he needed before this damage was done."

"Is this why Loki had trouble on the training grounds when he was small?" Thor asked.

"It wouldn't have impacted my health much until I was seven centuries old, right Mother?" Loki asked, startled by how breathy and shaky his voice came out. He looked down at himself to see a discarded wrapping sitting near Eir, and realized he'd been given a powerful analgesic. That explained why he was suddenly so calm, it would have sedative properties as well. That was good; the forced calm would help.

"It would have impacted your health starting the year the binding was put on you," Eir corrected. “Roughly eight hundred years of this, and I didn’t take your lack of experimentation with this ability as a sign of something wrong.”

"How can I complain about not having a menstrual cycle when I don't know I should have one?" Loki chuckled, ignoring how the healer's hands were reaching up under his skirts, attempting to retain some modesty for Loki while treating the wound. "If this is another bid to convince me to bleed during the Harvest Festival, let me cut you off right now. I can skip or delay it by not changing, I will not change during the Harvest Festival, and I'll figure out something so I won't damage myself further in future."

"When you say you have been bleeding," Thor began, but his voice trailed off before he got to the important words.

"Loki is having his first menses," Frigga confirmed. "It's horrifically late, therefore more intense than it should be."

"I can't change damaged flesh yet," Loki added, "so changing my shape even slightly in my current condition is ill advised until I have mastered this ability. I cannot be anything other than what you see right now until this is over."

"Odin, Loki asked me to have this conversation without him, and I wish to honor that request as much as I am able," mother spoke with gentle strength. "Shall we go to your office for the rest of it? I will read the note that has set you on such a war path, and then we will discuss this calmly."

"Very well," the King agreed, but stepped closer to where Loki was laid out. Loki couldn't quite contain a flinch, and Odin halted his approach despite showing nothing other than disapproval. "I had not thought I was hurting you beyond what was necessary. My aim was to help you, as you are my son and this situation is troubling. I only have your best interests at heart."

"I know that, father," Loki answered obediently.


	5. Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki heals, at least physically.

**Care**

Eir cast several spells to stabilize Loki and keep his damaged midsection still, then they moved him to the bedroom where he had been living the last week. The desk was piled high with books and scrolls, a half-finished essay laid out waiting for a few more paragraphs. No servants had entered this room since he'd taken up residence, and it showed. Clothing was hanging off all the furniture from the morning's playful arguments over what dress Loki would wear. The bed was unmade, with all the covers pushed against the wall due to the rising summer heat. Thor set him down gently on the sheets. Eir went to gather some washcloths from the adjoining bathroom. Loki started carefully removing his clothes. Thor twitched away, looking out the open window at the distant horizon.

"Honestly, Thor, how many times have we seen each other naked?" Loki asked with false calm as Eir returned and helped him untie the complicated dress without damaging it or himself. Loki moved as best he could without the use of the paralyzed muscles in his abdomen. Not even the powerful side-effects of the analgesic could completely cover his nerves.

"This is not the same as swimming in a pond," Thor mumbled, fidgeting.

"I could use your help, Prince Thor," Eir requested, "as could your brother."

Thor came to the bed then and helped shift Loki so the complicated dress could be pulled over his head. That left him wearing the less well-fitting women's undergarments they had improvised. The bra was a good fit, though it had needed a bit of stitching to adjust the size. The 'training' petticoat was designed to be absorbent in case of accident, and he tried not to think of the similarity to potty training in its design, but was too short to be proper for his tall frame and ended mid-calf rather than at the ankle. Eir unbuttoned it down the side, opening it to shield the bedding. Underneath, Loki's slim hips had been the only place un-tailored clothing fit well, and Eir removed the absorbent briefs. They were wet with blood and were quickly discarded. Loki looked over at the dress and was glad to see it unstained, though it had torn a little. Thor's brow wrinkled as he examined how much of Loki's blood was soaking into the petticoat.

"This is not normal," Thor said curiously.

"Normal flow is measured in ounces, not cups," Eir informed clinically. "This is fresh blood from a mostly internal wound. I have stopped the bleeding, but the spilled blood and damaged tissue must be removed as some of it came from a male body and now has the wrong makeup."

"How can I help?"

"Sit him up, and I will do what I can to safely drain it."

Loki remained quiet and compliant throughout the procedure, watching with clinical detachment as a worrying amount of blood was carefully drained away. A few lumps of flesh were cleared away as well, his body's attempts at plugging the 'wound' when changing back. Thor held him steady, though his grip was bruising until Eir scolded him for being too rough. Loki had just shrugged, used to the way Thor casually underestimated his strength all the time. When it was over Eir helped clean and dress him in fresh undergarments and a nightgown. Thor tucked him in with pillows propping him up against the headboard. Loki's abdominal muscles were still mostly paralyzed to prevent him from tearing the healing wound open again. Eir had the servants bring up some juice and they pulled a couple chairs and a side table around the bed.

It had been two hours, and their parents weren't back yet. Thor went to the door leading from their parent's shared lounge to Father's office and reported that he heard indistinct shouting through the thick wood and privacy spells. It felt like Loki was back in the nursery, waiting for judgment to come down after he'd hurt both himself and one of his playmates with magic. It was one of his earliest memories, and related to cherished ones since his punishment had been to shadow Eir. It was meant to teach him how hard it was to fix injured bodies and scare him into being more careful, though that had seemed unfair as Thor regularly did more damage to himself and others through roughhousing. To fill the silence while they waited, Loki started talking about his healer's training. Eir was soon drawn into discussion of his unorthodox induction into her troop of apprentices and fond memories of his training that Thor had not heard much about before, or else had forgotten.

Loki had shown such naked interest and mimicked her assistants so well that she'd begun treating him as if he was her apprentice almost from the first day. Afraid the young boy was enjoying himself too much to learn the needed lesson, she brutally ignored that he was just over two centuries old and expected him to keep up with instruction meant for girls three times his age in an effort to make the punishment sting. As years passed, there had been a bit of a scuffle about how long his 'punishment' was meant to go on, but Loki convinced Odin that helping in the healer's wing taught him much about Asgardian society and everyone's role in it because he encountered every kind of person while working there. Most of the court - including Thor at the time - thought that he was only running around fetching things and drawing water, and the longer he spent doing servants work the less time he had to slip hot pepper into their ale or glue onto their seats. The hours he spent with the healers had even been extended due to such antics from time to time, which was a bit like punishing a fish by tossing it into a stream.

To everyone's shock and his mother's pleasure, Loki had emerged from his 'punishment' as the youngest Journeyman Army Healer on record at the tender age of six-hundred and twenty-eight, only eleven years after Thor's coming out party. For roughly fifteen decades it had been more proper to call him Journeyman Healer Loki than Young Lord Loki Odinson. Once he became old enough to be presented to the court and officially named a Prince the greater title trumped his earlier achievement, but many remembered and resented being forced to show respect to one so young. He'd even been accused of stepping on his brother's achievement, though Thor had merely grown older and Loki had earned his place at the table in the Dining Hall through hard work and study.

The three of them were served lunch as they waited. Eir and Thor ate while pretending that there wasn't an epic clashing of wills occurring seven or eight rooms away, and Loki poked at his plate and vanished pieces of his food when he thought the other two weren't looking. Queen Frigga had meant to delay the conversation in order to keep her temper in check when the time came to say her piece, but the terrible way the situation had unfolded likely counteracted that effort completely. Everything had unraveled so quickly, and Loki wondered if he'd be forbidden from leaving the palace until the Harvest Festival, or even wind up with a magical binding slapped onto him again.

\----------------------------

The door burst open at long last and Queen Frigga rushed in, going immediately to hug Loki. Loki embraced her tightly in return, watching Odin carefully where the King was lingering in the doorway. Odin swept his gaze over the messy room, taking in the protective posture Thor had adopted as casually as the stack of books on the desk, but avoiding looking at Loki directly.

"Healer Eir, unless your constant service is necessary you are dismissed," the King declared. On her way out, Eir warned Loki again that he should limit his movements for the next two days and if the blood flow suddenly increased he must call for help immediately. It was nothing she hadn't said four times already, so Loki just nodded into his mother's hair.

"You know I detest secrets within a family. I only kept this from you because Loki begged me to wait so he could sort out his own thoughts on the matter," Mother told Thor and Odin when the door had fully closed, "and as soon as he was able to change again we were going to tell you everything."

"You would tell us," Odin corrected, "and Loki would scuttle off on his yearly vanishing act as if nothing had happened."

"What has happened?" Loki asked blandly. "Nothing of consequence, aside from this wound that will be healed shortly."

"Brother, I didn't see you hit your head when you fell, but I must wonder if you are aware of yourself," Thor chuckled. "Something _of consequence_ has happened to you, clearly."

"It is not as if I have been attacked or laid low by some shame. I stand by what I wrote to you. There were unintended consequences related to the binding put on me finally failing. I wished to deal with this privately, and later I would be off on my usual trip."

"Are you comfortable?" Odin asked, his voice clear and controlled. Loki's eyes snapped to his father, startled by the question.

"I am perfectly comfortable. With Eir's overzealous application of pain relief, I am actually more comfortable now than I have been in a long time," Loki admitted. Mother pat his hand, and Thor slumped to lean against a bedpost.

"You had been in daily pain?" Odin's voice held a rare sliver of concern. It almost broke Loki to hear, and over such a trivial thing. He'd have expected Odin to continue to lay down a hard line of expectation until things had been put back into the order they were meant to have, or at least until such action was agreed to by all involved.

"Well, yes." Loki shifted a bit, causing Mother to fuss with the pillows, and started to babble. "I hadn't expected the contrast to be so clear, but standing on the other side of it - or lying on the other side as the case may be - I can say I am quite comfortable now and I was not before." There was a moment of silence where everyone seemed too uncomfortable to talk, and Loki had run out of ways to stretch out his answer any further.

"The binding spell has gone from you, and in its wake, you became a woman," Odin's voice was contemplative. Loki wound back his father's questions, and re-evaluated their meaning.

"In its wake nothing happened," Loki corrected. "While I noticed the binding while experimenting with this shape, and used that change to properly break it, the release from its hold did little on its own. I was as I had always been - a changeling. I changed into a woman while speaking with Mother to prove a point about another issue, and this situation developed while we were talking."

"Another issue, specifically that you had lain with men," Odin sighed.

"What?" Loki and Thor gasped in unison.

"Odin, that is not what I said!" Mother scolded. "He came to me because he noticed things while in feminine form that did not line up with what you taught him about women's bodies when he was young. He had significant holes in his education, and you should have seen how he reacted to the blood. You said you had taught our boys well."

"You said he had lain with men," Odin shot back. Loki dropped his face into his hands, tugging at the magic he used to become invisible and finding himself either too weak from blood loss or too deeply sedated to manage more than a slight shadow across the bed.

"I said he was distressed enough to have mentioned such a thing while trying to scare me. It has not come up in conversation again, and I honestly doubt it really happened," mother scoffed. "He was in a panic about his true identity."

"You think dressing him in gowns and twittering on about women's issues would help with that?"

"I tried to find ways to make him happy and reassure him that he is loved by his family, and it worked. I'd not seen Loki smile so much in decades. Accepting this is necessary for him as a changeling. What was I meant to do, scold him for bleeding when he couldn't help what had happened to him?" Frigga took a deep breath. "We had our argument, and I said my piece."

"Loki, was it just to scare mother?" Thor asked. Loki peaked through his fingers at his assembled family. It would be a fine distraction from the reality they were faced with. They didn't seem angry about the possibility, not the way Odin was angry about him changing his shape. He took a deep breath and folded his hands in his lap.

"I did a number of things while escaping from Lorelei that another man might not have done. On the other hand, no other man escaped her. Afterward, I may have gone down to Midgard to... investigate certain things further. I was myself, male, and not changed or affected by magic in any way when I did so. Everyone I came into contact with there would now be long dead, and I was discreet in any case."

"You went down to Midgard and..." Thor trailed off.

"What was the result of this _investigation?_ " Odin's voice was calm and controlled again. Loki figured that meant the topic was more acceptable than his changeling nature.

"That sex is fun," Loki said as artlessly as he dared. Thor barked out a laugh, and Mother tittered behind her hand. Odin hadn't moved, though, and that was what mattered. "There is little significance, if it is only hands and mouths involved, in what gender the participants happen to be."

"That doesn't seem as thorough an investigation as is usual for you," Odin pointed out.

"I have occasionally gone to extremes in researching a topic of interest," Loki acknowledged. "In this case I did conduct a full investigation, so to speak, of what is possible between two men. I have already stated my conclusion: sex is a pleasurable act. That is hardly something revolutionary."

"And in your female form?" Odin prompted.

"It honestly hadn't occurred to me at the time, and my partner certainly wouldn't have been receptive. If I'd suddenly sprouted breasts he'd have been quite offended," Loki joked. "In other quite obvious news, I am eager to get back into my proper and true shape and have no plans to fill in that particular gap in my experience. I suppose that might change if and when I meet a man interesting enough to balance out the risks involved in such a relationship, but he would have to be... unimaginably impressive to get me to agree to such a thing even as a dalliance."

"Oh, Loki," mother laughed brightly, "the number of young women I have heard utter those same words, who are now married long years with children!" She descended into giggles, heedless of Odin's darkening expression.

"I'd rather be one of two women in my bed, if I must choose a ridiculous hypothetical," Loki teased her, attempting to mimic her casual dismissal of Odin's disapproval. She seemed to think it was the best tactic and he didn't have any better ideas. Frigga gasped at his boldness, but was still giggling. "Now that is something to consider when looking for a wife. How does one go about delicately asking such a question while courting?"

"No, no, no," Thor said, shaking his head like a wet dog. "I cannot have those images in my mind. Try to be serious, Loki, for the sake of my sanity!"

"Seriously, then, this is something I was born with. Attempting to seal away and ignore it has backfired, twice in a week. I plan to control and acknowledge it from now on, and see if that works better," Loki summarized.

"You told me you felt the same about having the binding on you as you felt about having a piece of your anatomy cut off," Mother reminded him.

"I did, and I do, because it was," Loki shrugged. He needed to get to a place where Odin would let him go his own way. "Effectively, father cut out my womb, or sealed it off, and that just isn't how my body is meant to work. I have these parts, and they need maintenance."

"You were born my brother, though," Thor pointed out, clearly confused. "Are these _parts_ not just a construct of your magic?"

"When a changeling takes on a form, the change is down to the bone," Mother explained. "It is not the surface change of a shape-shifter." Odin nodded along with that, some of the tension leaving his brow. Apparently, something in the discovery of Loki's true nature as a changeling was a comfort to the old king. His disapproval might be limited to shape-shifters, which was oddly specific. In any case, Loki could use that fact.

"If you define a man as one capable of siring a child, then I am male. If you define a woman as one capable of birthing a child, then when the scars on my seidr heal I will be that too," Loki explained. "I have the ability to be both things."

"That does not mean you _ought_ to be both things," Odin cut in.

"Eir said she noticed that before the rabbit incident, whenever Loki was in a room with only women during his check-ups he would be a girl unless you were mentioned," Frigga told Odin. "He was always a boy for you, because you wanted sons. I showed him no preference, so for me he changed freely between the two. I was distraught over how to deal with the questions of where his other parts went, and why other people didn't change the way he did, and then when the questions never came I was too relieved that he'd sorted it out to wonder how beyond assuming he had gone to you. He wasn't even two hundred years old yet."

"What was he when he was born?" Thor asked the obvious question. No one answered. Mother was giving Odin a piercing look, and he just glared at her, stern and still as a statue. Loki was quite alarmed at how her magic had flared, hooking into Loki's innate ability to detect lies and filling the room before Odin had a chance to answer the question. Out of the four of them, only Thor was unable to notice the threads of magic in the room and the implicit distrust Mother was showing.

"You remember how sick your mother was when she was with child," Odin said at last. Loki certainly did. She'd had several miscarriages, and Balder's birth was a nightmarish week in which Loki had been measured for the black robes of mourning. He'd enjoyed burning his and Thor's black scarves when it was all over, and even though he'd gotten in trouble for setting a fire indoors his only punishment from Mother was that she kissed him over and over until he begged her to stop embarrassing him in front of Thor.

"So, you don't know?" Thor asked, stupidly. "Wouldn't the healers have seen, if you were not aware enough?"

"It would have been in a room full of women," Loki sighed as the pieces clicked into place in his mind. "If there was no danger to my health I would have been immediately swaddled to keep away any chill and dropped onto mother's chest while they dealt with her sickness and the afterbirth. It could have been half an hour before I was unwrapped for my first bath."

"Surely a newborn couldn't change himself," Thor scoffed.

"He could and did the first time I picked him up," Odin admitted. Now that was telling, and Loki crossed his arms. It was a nervous habit of his he ought not indulge in, but he always felt chilled when ill at ease.

"Loki could always do this," Mother confirmed with an exasperated sigh, but she was clearly still cross about something. "Loki is a changeling like you have two legs, Thor. It is a part of him intrinsic to his person."

"The important thing is what he chose to be," Odin recovered. "You chose to be my son, and you _are_ Loki Odinson."

"Odin," Mother warned, something stern in her posture. "I do wish you would change your mind about this. You are being unreasonable."

"Loki is my son, and that is all there is to the matter."

"I agree," Loki said, startling the rest of the room. Whatever had Mother so cross was not worth angering Odin more than he was. "I am Loki Odinson, and I am a changeling. I will have to do a few things to ensure that I remain a healthy changeling, but that doesn't alter the fact that I took oaths as a Prince of the Realm. Whatever else I am, I took those oaths willingly and mean to keep them."

"Then there is no harm in it," Mother declared, but was still glaring at Odin.

"Very well then." Odin nodded and crossed the room to stand near Loki's bed. Mother relaxed, a pleased smile softening her features. "When you are healed you will come to my office as my son and you will tell me where you plan to go before you leave on your trip."

"I will come to see you, Father," Loki agreed obediently and selectively.

"There will be no foolishness about this."

"Of course not, Father."

"These clothes..." Odin trailed off, looking at the clothing tossed all over the room.

"Odin, the servants would talk up a storm if I had a young woman dressed like a young man in here," Frigga warned.

"It is a costume, Father. If this is to be a private thing, even temporarily, then such disguise is necessary. I laugh and joke about it with Mother because the alternative is to wallow in misery for the duration."

"So making jokes about it is welcomed?" Thor asked brightly. "When can I begin?"

"You will come straight to me as soon as this is over, properly dressed for your yearly excursion," Odin relented. "I wish this were not a necessity, and would not allow it if it were not such."

"Would having Loki be as he truly ought to be all along have been such a huge blow to your pride?" Frigga asked her husband with a bite of residual anger. Loki wished she hadn't; Odin had been satisfied and about to leave. If he were having this conversation alone with Odin and in his proper form, as Loki had planned to, then the whole thing would have been settled within five minutes: You cast a spell on me, I broke it, I'm not happy, and I'll come back to the palace when I'm no longer too angry to function. Job well done, and everything back to normal.

"What does that have to do with me?" Loki asked, exasperated. "The question doesn't even apply, as I generally preferred a male form even as a small child. Why I did so is something you might talk about hypothetically between man and wife, something tangentially related to the holes left in my sexual education perhaps. The answer to your question and the related topics might be applied to the next generation's upbringing, eventually. It doesn't have anything to do with the here and now."

"One day, you will be a wonderful father," Mother told Loki with such deep assurance it halted his train of thought. He looked down at his folded hands.

"Heal quickly," Odin ordered and swept out of the room. Loki found his retreat entirely too abrupt to feel relief at seeing the door close behind the King.

"Well," mother huffed, "I wish I could explain why he's being so unreasonable about this, but I don't have the ability."

"It is shocking to see you looking so very... as you are," Thor hazarded.

"Feminine," Mother supplied. "Yet Loki is Loki, even like this."

"I am myself," Loki agreed, and Mother pat his arm in approval. He looked up at Thor and switched to a stage whisper. "I have been obediently repeating some form of those words for Mother whenever she seems confused or distressed."

"You have a talent for blending in," Mother huffed over Thor's chuckle. "It is very useful at court when dealing with foreign dignitaries and Lords from far-flung holdings. You can understand, by having absorbed something about them, exactly what they need to hear said to satisfy them. It makes you an invaluable part of the court's operation. If you need something beyond our love for you as your family to sooth the shock of all this, think of that."

"That is true enough," Thor agreed. "When we travel you change your clothing to match local styles."

Loki nodded. Mother hadn't mentioned much that was practical about his abilities before, so this was either for Thor's benefit or it came out of her argument with Father. Actually, it made sense that this was part of what worried Odin so much. Loki had always been running off, his yearly trips were a compromise because they were semi-scheduled and regularly occurring. With Thor soon to take the throne, Odin may worry that Loki's sudden rediscovery of his nature would have him run off and live elsewhere permanently. Loki would just have to reassure everyone that such an action was unthinkable, at least in the short term. The abstract idea that Muspelheim would be habitable after changing his form into some spitfire demon did not immediately make it a tempting location for a vacation home.

"Aren't other cultures fascinating in how they operate? I find it amusing that some of them can get on while being so backwards. Blending in does offer some significant perks for a traveler, but one of the most pleasurable parts of my sojourns is the return home to the place I know and love the best."

"I think we will all be pleased when things return to normal," Thor sighed.

"What is more normal than seeing me return home windswept from travel and laden with stories and souvenirs?" Loki asked. "I have so many ideas for where I want to go after this is over I'll need ten of me to do it all."

"Perhaps you should simply plan for next year in advance," Thor suggested, "or else give me some ideas for this year's hunt before you go. If you will be so late in returning you may miss out on some of the planning and be quite dissatisfied with the result."

"Don't threaten me with a boring hunt, brother, or you will live to regret the results," Loki promised.

"Oh, so you shall set yourself on fire again?"

"If you had not tampered with my traps, the bear would have been the only one injured."

"I'm sure you set them perfectly, aside from not putting any bait in them."

"The greasy drippings from a frying pan are not acceptable bait for such a trap, because it is both highly flammable and _splashes easily_."

"A trap with no bait catches nothing."

"Why did you think I stood so close to it? I was the bait!"

"What meat would a bear find on those skinny legs?"

"Boys, that's enough, one of you is ill," Mother cut in before things could escalate to proper flyting. The pair of them were grinning like loons, and whatever else Thor thought about this at least they were still brothers. Loki yawned deeply.

"I think I'm going to sleep for a bit," Loki announced.

"Tired of my company already?" Thor asked, a slight crease to his brow.

"With what Eir gave you I'm surprised you didn't fall asleep earlier," Mother cooed, helping Loki settle down from where he'd been propped up.

"It is not much past midday," Loki countered. "I'm irritated enough by needing a nap. I could have born a bit of pain instead."

"It is better that you don't move and if you were in pain you would fidget," Mother reminded him.

"There is no shame in taking time to heal properly," Thor added, quoting the lessons they'd had on the training grounds. "Which of these books were you working with?"

"Can you move the whole stack to the nightstand? I'll finish that essay tomorrow, so leave that where it is." Loki did not need Thor pawing through the books. Mother seemed to understand the notion and she jumped up to take the stack of books.

"Why don't you move the desk to where the nightstand is? This bed is about the right height that he can use it from there," Mother directed. Thor did as he was told and soon the small writing desk was snuggled up to the edge of the bed. If Loki scooted around, he could likely use it while leaning on the headboard or lounging on his stomach relatively comfortably. He hoped the enforced paralysis of his abdomen wouldn't last long, as either position would look ridiculous and Thor didn't need more material. He yawned again, and was asleep before they left the room.

\----------------------------

Loki could admit he had misjudged his brother. Thor understood injuries and had seen enough magic that Loki's transformation could be taken in stride once it was properly framed. Since Loki had firmly established that he could not change back into his male form and Thor saw blood spilled, Thor acted no differently than if this was the aftermath of some epic battle with an evil sorceress. Loki would study in the morning with Eir and Mother as before, though now they gathered around him in his bed instead of around the reflecting pool. Thor would come to visit them for lunch; Mother broke up their playful banter before Loki completely exhausted himself right about the time Eir was due to give Loki another dose of analgesic. Then, Eir would torment Thor with facts and images about childbirth or venereal diseases while Loki dozed on the chaise. When Thor had enough of that he would carry Loki back to bed and Loki would worm his way through the stack of books Mother kept him supplied with.

After two days of this Loki was no longer bleeding for any reason, but magical wounds healed slowly and self-inflicted ones more so as the power that caused the injury is still close at hand. Eir insisted Loki remain sedated and still for a third day, and he accepted it reluctantly out of fear of repeating the painful mistake.

When dawn came on the fourth day of his enforced bed rest Loki was determined to get out of bed on his own power. He refused all forms of pain relief and removed the paralysis spell from himself. As his morning lessons progressed he regained full feeling in his abdomen and admitted within his own mind that being so powerfully drugged yesterday was likely necessary. He performed scans on himself and Eir used it as a test, prompting him to name and explain each part of himself as well as outline the nearly-healed wound. He walked out to the main sitting room with the lingering effects of the analgesic the only thing holding him back from his full strength.

Changing back into his normal, masculine shape took a little effort. He would never admit how long he stood in the bedroom taking deep calming breaths before he made the change. A quick medical scan indicated a small nearly healed laceration in his lower abdomen, of the sort that would linger after a particularly disastrous sparring match. He pulled his black and emerald hunting leathers on quickly and combed back his hair, not forgetting the oil that kept it flat. It could use a trim, as he usually kept it even with his jaw and it was starting to creep beyond its normal bounds, but he didn't want to waste the time.

He left the rooms where he had been sequestered swiftly and blew through his chambers to collect his flute and a couple of books. Sven had done an excellent job packing for him, and with the supplies he kept in his hiding place there wasn't much more he needed. He'd used up the blank journals in his studies, but didn't bother to pick up another one. He only needed to grab the one he was using to transcribe the music from its hidden place in his nightstand. He walked past Thor's chambers without pause, a burst of laughter within informing him that his brother was entertaining his friends. Soon enough he reached his father's office and the surprised guards announced his request for an audience. He waited patiently outside the gilded door for several long minutes before several council members filed out. Many of them looked startled to see him. At length Loki was granted entrance to the circular room and saw Odin alone, seated at his desk.

"Good Afternoon, Father," Loki said with a respectful nod.

"I see you are well healed," Odin replied in place of a greeting. At least the old King was giving Loki his full attention. So often Loki walked into this office to talk to the top of Odin's head while the elder man finished up some bit of writing or else to talk to his back while he reviewed the various reports that lined the shelves on the left side of the room. Having Odin's full attention from the first moment was a nice change.

"I am well enough," he replied vaguely.

"What are your plans this year?" Odin asked. It had been many years since Loki had last heard that demanding question.

"There has been excitement enough these last few weeks. Perhaps just a simple camping trip," he admitted. Heimdall would be watching, so it wasn't like Odin wouldn't know exactly where Loki was in short order. Still, he wasn't about to tell his father where he intended to go.

"You could simply stay here," Odin suggested. That was unexpected. It had been _centuries_ since Odin tried to talk Loki out of his wandering.

"I have need of solitude," Loki asserted. The truth had also been his best argument in the past.

"After nearly two weeks of sequestration?" Odin pressed.

"Solitude in quiet contemplation is quite different from forced sequestration in intense study, and in any case I was hardly alone," Loki argued.

"There are the gardens, the library..."

"I wish to leave Gladsheim. I will return before the beginning of Autumn. I promise to keep my oaths and behave in accordance to that which befits my station," Loki tried.

"There is much work to be done for the realm," Odin reminded him. This was true every year, as work tended to pile up during the revelry surrounding Thor's name day throughout the realm. Perhaps truer now than normally, as the last year had so much extra revelry and some things had been put off in favor of the celebrations.

"Have we not just finished a year of celebrating Thor's impending coronation?" Loki asked. "Surely, he will be spending more time at court tending to such duties, and I will be free to explore other interests and experiments for the betterment of the realm."

"I would see you working together," Odin explained.

"There will be time enough for that in the coming months and years."

"I worry at you leaving at this time more than usual," Odin redirected.

"Because you are somehow biased against Changelings and Shape-shifters," Loki observed cuttingly.

"What?" Odin seemed surprised.

"It is clear from your words and actions these last few days," Loki began to raise his sharpest argument. "Indeed, for the whole of my life, when I put thought to the issue. You have always been stricter with me, more distant and demanding. I can clearly see that you dislike my native ability somehow, to the point of breaking laws governing the casting of certain classes of spells on children, and it has caused us both a fair amount of trouble of late." He would not say what classes; he would not even think them.

"I find aspects of it unfortunate," Odin said vaguely.

"You find it distasteful. Do you think I am in some way depraved?"

"Don't make such presumptions."

"You would demand I stay home this year. Have I done anything worth such low opinion?" Loki pressed.

"Negating the last two weeks?"

"A medical necessity, unless you are implying that you find all women contemptible."

"Do not twist my words," Odin warned, pointing aggressively at his son.

"Do not twist mine. I speak plainly."

"When it suits you."

"Should I not suit myself when it harms none? I ask again, what dishonorable thing have I done that makes a trip un-escorted beyond Gladsheim's walls so terrible a proposition?"

"I worry for you, is that so unreasonable?"

"Because there is something wrong with being what I am," Loki supplied. Odin didn't answer immediately, and it was all the more damning. At least Loki finally knew why he'd always been judged so harshly.

"Is it some horrible thing for me to wish you stay as you are?" Odin surprised Loki by huffing out this question. It was not often that the old King said something so emotional. Odin preferred his second son as he was... Loki let a genuine smile soften his features. Odin's actions and words normally indicated an opinion that Loki ought to change his lifestyle to be more like Thor. Everyone wished Loki was more like Thor, even Loki himself.

"I am a sorcerer. Most would have me be anything other than what I am," Loki decided to voice his thoughts.

"I am also skilled with magic."

"Which you did not study until after you were twenty-five centuries old and had taken the crown," Loki countered.

"You are a skilled warrior as well as a talented sorcerer. You need not take on the role of a woman so completely," Odin asserted.

"I do not intend to," Loki assured.

"Nothing I can say will dissuade you from this trip?"

"My King can order me to remain, and I will." It was a gamble. Odin could make it an official order from the crown that Loki stay home, making abandoning his assigned post a hair's breadth from treason, but that would be a drastic move.

"Do as you wish," Odin sighed.

"Thank you, Father," Loki acknowledged, glad Odin chose to act more as a father than a monarch.

"I hope this journey is short."

"I do not."

"Very well." Loki bowed and left the room, wrapping himself in shadow as he left.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Poorly Spun Threads](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871782) by [SofiaDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SofiaDragon/pseuds/SofiaDragon)




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